


Murder of Crows

by Velvet_Velour



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, Angst, Asexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Family Issues, Fantastic Racism, High Chaos Corvo Attano, Hurt/Comfort, Low Chaos Daud (Dishonored), M/M, Mild Language, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Timeskip, Unhealthy Relationships, Witchcraft, problematic father figures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvet_Velour/pseuds/Velvet_Velour
Summary: Corvo is a witcher, anunnatural creatureas the Abbey calls him. He does all kinds of jobs no other person would accept and deals with the criminal underworld of Dunwall, all for the safety of his daughter. It’s been a year since Emily’s mother was killed, and Lord Regent is soon to be crowned Emperor.Across the sea another witcher tries to survive in this cruel world. One year ago Daud fled from Dunwall plagued by guilt. He tries to have a life with his adopted daughter but his past mistakes won’t leave him alone.A sudden attack leaves Emily dying in Corvo’s arms. He has to make a choice he swore he would never make – ask the Outisider to save his child._________The Witcher AU for Dishonored
Relationships: Alexandria Hypatia/Billie Lurk | Meagan Foster, Corvo Attano & Emily Kaldwin, Corvo Attano/Daud, Daud & Billie Lurk | Meagan Foster, Daud & Thomas (Dishonored), Emily Kaldwin/Wyman, Past Corvo Attano/Jessamine Kaldwin - Relationship, mentioned Delilah Copperspoon/Billie Lurk | Meagan Foster, minor background Lydia Brooklaine/Cecelia, one-sided Corvo Attano/Callista Curnow
Comments: 29
Kudos: 43





	1. Corvo I

The place stinks.

Kneeling down on a dirty, wet floor Corvo takes another shallow breath. The stable is empty, it’s all eerily quiet with only the sound of waves crashing coming from a distance. A fat pig lies dead in front of him, its belly cut open. Fresh blood pools on the ground.

Corvo closes his eyes and exhales.

During the past four days animals were found ripped to shreds in the harbour. Nobody thought about getting a professional to take care of whatever was lurking in the dark until a woman was found dead on a street.

For a foreigner Dunwall may look like a great city full of opportunities. And sure, parts of the city like the Holger Square or the Civil Services District are places where a person wished they could live. Beautiful marble floors, spacious apartments with crystal chandeliers. And then there were parts of the city like the harbour.

A tile falls from the stable’s roof, followed by a quiet thud of big paws landing on the ground. A human ear would never even register these sounds. Good thing Corvo wasn’t a normal human. He opens his eyes and stares at the door. A growl gets closer with each passing moment. The medallion he wears on his neck vibrates slightly under his armour.

The door creaks; in the dead of night it’s an ominous sound. A big furry hand pushes it open to reveal a hunched figure. The creature sniffs in the air, emits a snarl and walks inside the stable, following the smell of blood. Suddenly it stops, the growling grows louder as its eyes focus on the witcher kneeling in the shadows. It straightens its back and bares its teeth, ready to strike.

_A werewolf is an uncommon sight._

Part of Corvo thought it was something else that hunts in the harbour at night; he’s never even seen a werewolf with his own eyes. Still, Corvo is prepared. When the monster jumps at him he’s already standing with a silver sword in hand. He dodges the beast’s claws, rolls on the dirty floor and swiftly jumps back on his feet. There’s barely any light in the stable, dark interior illuminated only by moonlight coming through the open door, yet Corvo’s moves are fast and precise. His eyes turn yellow with cat like pupils, as the power of the Void courses through his veins. The beast is too slow; it lacks skill and precision. The werewolf’s claws miss, it hits the air with his giant paws instead.

It’s not a long fight. It ends right there as Corvo _Blinks_ behind the werewolf, swings the sword and cuts right through the monster’s neck, its flesh sizzling at the contact with silver. Even if it somehow knew it’s going to face an opponent who has Void powers, there was no way of predicting where the witcher would reappear when he used _Blink_. The growl is cut short, the werewolf’s head falls in a pool of blood next to the butchered pig. Its big body convulses and collapses, hitting the ground with a dull thud and causing clouds of dust.

Corvo exhales. His medallion vibrates strongly, reacting to the way the werewolf’s body shifts and changes. Minutes later the fur and claws are gone and a young man stares emptily at the witcher. Corvo wipes his sword, puts it back in a sheath. With his foot he turns the man on his back. Seeing a tattoo on the dead man’s chest he lets out a sigh.

_Slackjaw won’t be too thrilled to know one of his men was cursed._

* * *

The Dunwall Whiskey Distillery is already closed this late at night tough it doesn’t mean there’s nobody inside. Holding a bloody bag in his hand, Corvo pounds at the door. After a longer moment it opens and a muscular man with a red face glares at him.

“We’re closed and the boss is busy,” he spits. “Find somewhere else to go or Bottle Street boys’ll break your legs.”

Corvo scoffs. “Tell Slackjaw I got one of his _Bottle Street boys_. Well, part of him. You need to get someone to fetch the rest from the harbour.”

He tosses the bloody bag by the man’s feet. The man jolts back, cursing.

“Outsider’s balls, you’re that witcher,” he mutters. He pokes the bag with his foot, grimaces with disgust.

“Yes, and your boss hired me to take care of the thing that was disrupting your operations. You’re clear to smuggle whatever you need through the harbour again. The beast is dead. Now take me to Slackjaw, he owes me coin.” 

“You said it was one of us?” the man has a deep frown on his face. “How do I know you didn’t kill one of us to get money from boss?”

Now it’s Corvo’s turn to frown. He’s tired and it’s so late the sun will be up soon. What he needs is to get what he’s owed, have a drink and get back home to his daughter he hasn’t seen since yesterday because he spent all that time preparing for this assignment.

He grabs the bloody bag, walks past the red faced thug without a word. He crosses the main floor and runs up the stairs before the man can react. Accompanied by curses and shouts, he opens the door to Slackjaw’s office. Luckily the leader of the Bottle Street gang is in his chair behind a desk.

“Never heard about knocking, witcher?” Slackjaw says, looking up from a stack of papers. He gathers the documents and puts them in a drawer, away from Corvo’s eyes. There are candles on his desk and in their flickering light he looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well, deep shadows forming under his eyes.

“Here’s the monster you wanted killed.” Corvo puts the bag on the desk. “Send one of your men to get the rest of him from the harbour.”

Slackjaw winces. Blood stains his desk; it’s odd he keeps his desk so spotlessly clean when the shirt he’s wearing has so many stains. He stands up, opens the bag to look inside. His cheek twitches, eyes narrow when he glances at Corvo.

“I take it you were absolutely certain he was guilty when you cut off his head?”

Before Corvo can reply the door opens wide. The red faced thug pants heavily and points at the witcher with a trembling hand.

“He used one of his _magics_ to get past me, boss!” he wheezes, his face turning more red. “I’ll toss this fucker out, I told him not to disturb– ”

“Get out!” Slackjaw barks.

The man wheezes an apology and leaves. Slackjaw sits down on the chair, pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Tell me how it happened,” he says. He gives Corvo a tired look. “I saw animals and a girl ripped into pieces. I doubt good old Jerry had the strength to rip a pig in half.”

“He was cursed. Turned into a werewolf at night.” Crovo shrugs.

What else is there to say? The job’s done. Besides, Slackjaw isn’t interested in the occult. The good thing is: he also doesn’t have any problems with employing a witcher to do jobs for him. They were fairly simple, involved mostly beating up someone who thought they can threaten the leader of the Bottle Street gang. Corvo agreed because Slackjaw paid good coin. The bad thing was – after giving Corvo one more job at one point Slackjaw got more talkative, perhaps imagining the witcher was some sort of his _comrade_ , not an emotionless, unnatural creature straight from the Void, as the Abbey claimed. Every now and then he insists Corvo shares a drink with him. He hasn’t suggested it yet this time, maybe because the bloody bag on his desk discourages from celebrating the occasion with liquor.

“A curse, huh?” Slackjaw idly caresses his moustache, a hint of worry in his eyes as he looks at the severed head. “No ordinary person could turn a man into a werewolf, I assume. So it was one of those crazy cultists of the Outsider? Or a witch?”

Corvo huffs with annoyance. “I don’t know and I don’t care. You hired me to take care of one thing and this one thing only. Here’s the monster you wanted me to kill. Give me my money so I can get some damn sleep.”

Slackjaw twists his lips, dissatisfied with how the conversation is going. He reaches to another drawer in his desk and tosses Corvo a small bag of coins.

Corvo weights it in his hand and puts it in his pocket. “If you’ve got more work to do you know where to find me,” he says turning to the door.

“Have a good night, witcher,” he hears Slackjaw say before Corvo closes the door.

* * *

Walking through Dunwall at night can be dangerous. Corvo pulls a hood on his head, ignoring a group of drunk men laughing loudly and smashing bottles in the middle of a street. They may be looking for trouble but they also see the swords on his back and turn around when he walks past them. One of them swears under his breath. Corvo pretends he doesn’t hear it. Not that he cares. He’d rather get back home as soon as possible.

He gets to an old building and climbs the stairs to the highest floor. The door is locked. He fishes a key from a pouch on his belt and sneaks inside, making no noise.

The apartment is small. There’s only one big room that’s a room for everything, with a stove by a wall, cupboards and a table with three chairs. There’s also a rickety old bed in the corner and a wardrobe with a secret compartment inside it. It’s where Corvo hides his swords and the medallion. He takes off his armor and leaves it inside the wardrobe. The City Watch is getting bolder lately, not only patrolling the streets but also going inside houses to look for any kind of heretical artefacts, as they like to call them. Corvo doesn’t want to risk losing his prized weapons.

He puts on a brown shirt noticing a hole on the sleeve has been repaired. He glances at a person lying in bed, listens for her soft breathing. Callista pretends she’s sleeping. Maybe she really was but woke up when he returned. No matter how quiet Corvo is, Callista always wakes up when he comes back.

He makes his way to the other room where a small girl sleeps in a narrow bed. The room is tiny but it’s enough for Emily and a bunch of her toys. There’s a basket with clothes, and a small table with a half–finished drawing and crayons. A wooden horse lays on the floor accompanied by a doll with an ugly face. He sits on the edge of the bed and observes Emily in silence, a ghost of a smile on his lips. She looks peaceful, so different than her usual energetic self during the day. After a moment Corvo leaves, closing the door to Emily’s room. 

He returns to the main room to see Callista sitting on the bed. She lit a candle on the table. Contrary to him she can’t see in the dark. She has a worried look on her face. He can’t remember the last time he hasn’t seen her worried. He sits on the bed and takes off his shoes.

“It’s so late,” she whispers, put her small hand on his shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“Slackjaw wanted to talk,” Corvo whispers back. It wasn’t a particularly difficult job yet he feels so tired for some reason.

“More Overseers are patrolling the streets,” Callista continues, moving inches closer until she’s pressed to his side. “I fear they may start searching houses for heretics. I heard they burned a woman at the Holger Square yesterday. Made a public execution for everyone to see.”

“They won’t take me.” He massages his neck. Worry squeezes his throat; it’s like he’s suffocating. “And they won’t take Emily.”

“I’m afraid, Corvo,” she whispers. She presses her cheek to his shoulder, arm wrapped around his waist, looking for any sort of comfort. “More and more with each passing night. Dunwall isn’t safe anymore. Not for someone like you. High Overseer will burn a house to the ground if he even suspects something _unnatural_ is happening there.” 

Corvo stays silent.

He would be lying if he said it hasn’t crossed his mind. The problem is that he’s not sure if he _can_ leave Dunwall forever. It would mean saying goodbye to the woman he loved and who was now dead and buried in her family’s royal tomb. He heard the late Empress Jessamine Kaldwin has a beautiful statue near the palace. People claim the statue looks so much like her it’s incredible someone could capture the Empress’ beauty in marble. At time Corvo wishes he could see it with his own eyes.

But a marble statue of his dead lover won’t help him take care of Emily. Jessamine is gone and there’s nothing he can do to turn back time. It’s been a year and it still stings. It’s an open wound that can’t heal. Or maybe Corvo doesn’t want it to heal and that’s why he’s still in Dunwall despite everything that’s happening in this wretched city. Despite the Abbey going on a crusade against the heretics and everything they call _unnatural_ , including someone like him – marked by the Void. Despite Lord Regent introducing one law after another to make the rich richer and the poor starve.

He shakes his head. Perhaps he should gather the courage to finally leave Dunwall (and Jessamine) behind.

He turns his head towards Callista. Her body is warm and she’s right here with him, as opposed to a marble statue of his dead lover. She cradles his face in her hands, a ghost of a smile on her lips. He closes the distance between them, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down on the bed.

He doesn’t think much of anything.

There’s a crack on the wall. The building’s old, full of sad people who can barely afford living in their dirty, small apartments. Corvo’s gaze is glued to that crack, mind empty, body moving on its own. He glances down at Callista to see her cowering her mouth with a hand to keep quiet. She wouldn’t want to wake up Emily. Perhaps he should… lean in close, caress her face, whisper a lie to make her less miserable. He does none of those things. This is a perfect distraction.

He lets out a groan, buries his face in the crook of Callista’s face. Her lips press to his cheek, fingers combing through his hair. The bed is narrow, Callista moves closer to the side so he can lie by her side. The bed squeaks. She reaches for his hand and squeezes it. Corvo stares at the ceiling listening to her breathing going back to normal. For a brief moment the emptiness in his heart was forgotten; it’s back now and Corvo hopes sleep will come soon.

He closes his eyes, tired, and slowly drifts away.

His sleep is suddenly interrupted when there’s a knock on the door.

Corvo jolts awake and sits up, instantly alert. Callista stirs beside him, slowly opens her eyes. She gives him a confused look. Corvo presses a finger to his lips and she nods, eyes glancing at the door.

There’s another knock. Corvo grabs a kitchen knife, tiptoes to the door and listens.

“Open up,” comes a muffled male voice. “I’m here on important business.”

Corvo hides the knife behind his back, unlocks the door and opens it slowly. A plump man in white clothes stands at the doorstep. At the sight of the witcher who’s wearing only lose breeches his lips twitch and he looks Corvo ups and down.

The stranger wears a long white coat and white pants. There’s a golden brooch pinned to his chest. Corvo recognizes the Abbey’s symbol and his grip on the knife tightens.

“I’m here by the order of Overseer Martin,” the man leans in, his voice a whisper. He gives Corvo a significant look. “I trust you know what’s this about. A possible job for a man of your… specific talents.”

He peeks inside, looking over Corvo’s shoulder. His eyes sweep the room until they fall on Callista. He quirks an eyebrow, and when his gaze returns to Corvo he smirks like he was stopping himself from laughing.

“You are to come with me, witcher. Take your things. Overseer Martin awaits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: thank you for reading the first chapter. I have many things planned for this story and I hope you’ll come along for a ride & enjoy it.  
> I’m borrowing elements both from The Witcher and Dishonored canon, so I hope things won’t be too confusing. I don’t want to focus on exposition too much but if anyone thinks some parts of the story need more explanation please let me know. I already have most of the story planned out, I’ll try to post new chapters more or less regularly.  
> Feedback is always appreciated!


	2. Daud I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a small town near Karnaca another witcher finishes a job.

The field is quiet. The sun is setting, sky filled with clouds.

A man kneels down among trees, his cat like yellow eyes focused on a small goat grazing in the middle of the field. The silence is unnatural, it makes him more cautious. No birds on the trees, no mice in the tall grass. The animals sensed a predator and left. And he’s here to hunt the beast that scared them away.

The goat bleats, tugging at the rope tied to a pole, tries to get away. The witcher grips a crossbow in his hands and looks up, eyes searching. The contract was clear what he needs to kill – but the creature is nowhere to be seen. The goat’s bleating gets louder and more panicky. Daud knits his brows, scans the sky until he sees it – a large shape swooping down from the sky.

The griffin is a majestic creature. He almost feels bad he has to kill it. Almost. Admiring the beast won’t get him coin.

Daud aims and fires just as the beast dives to catch the goat in its claws. The arrow hits and explodes, the griffin cries out, falls on the side. Daud fires once more, hitting its wing right next to where the previous bolt hit. The griffin sees him and spins around, the arrow lost in grass.

Daud curses, throwing his crossbow away. The creature’s high pitched shriek makes him wince. The griffin digs in the ground with its claws, the goat momentarily forgotten, and readies to jump at the one who attacked it. The witcher already has his sword in hand.

The beast leaps forward, its huge body flies in the air like it weighs nothing, and lands just where Daud stood a second ago. It roars in confusion, eyes searching for his opponent but finds nothing. Suddenly it turns to the side, sensing danger but it’s too late. Sounds die in the griffin’s throat when a silver sword pierces through his back as Daud _Blinks_ to existence above it and falls down on its back grunting as he pushes his blade through the creature’s massive body.

With one more sound coming from the griffin’s beak it collapses on the ground, causing a cloud of dust. Daud holds on to its mane, pants, and lets go of his sword. It sticks out of the back of the beast’s neck. He’ll need to chop off its head anyway, so he leaves it for now. He jumps down and exhales. The job’s done. Now to take the creature’s head, present the trophy and claim his reward.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees movement and jerks up his head. The rope holding the goat snaps and the scared animal runs away, bleating loudly.

* * *

The music and chatter stops, all eyes at the man who enters the tavern. Some start whispering with excitement, others curse but turn their heads so he won’t see their faces.

Daud pays no attention to the people gathered in the tavern and makes his way to a staircase. The music returns, the room again fills with voices. The whole crowd lets out a sigh of relief that he left. If the witcher is back the job must be done, and if the job’s done they’re safe, and the unnatural bastard will soon leave their town. If he doesn’t then they’ll make him or so they tell themselves.

The room he’s renting is on the first floor. The crowd downstairs is getting pretty rowdy. As Daud climbs the stairs he hopes people will quiet down eventually and he’ll be able to get some sleep. Not that he can sleep for long. Dreams of a woman he killed, her blood a stark contrast with a white marble floor, won’t leave him even though it’s been a year. They got worse, in fact. Sometimes she speaks to him, her voice like an echo. Sometimes he relives the moment he got to her and he sneaks up behind her back but this time she turns around, puts her hands on his and guides the sword through her body, and he can’t move, paralyzed by her gaze.

He pushes the door open with a heavy sigh. The moment he steps inside his room he’s attacked by a small creature that wraps her thin arms around his waist, squealing in joy.

“Daud! You’re back!!”

He lifts her up to look at her face and she beams at him. Her front tooth is missing; it was a big deal when it fell out. He had to spend an entire afternoon explaining a new one will grow back in its place, just like it happened before with other teeth.

“How did it go?!” she asks, breathless, her big eyes sparkling with interest. “Did you kill it? Was that griffon big? How big it was, Daud? Like a horse? No, griffons are bigger than horses. So how big? Did you get hurt? Did the explosive bolts work?”

He puts her down and nods his head. “I’m alright, Billie. The bolts did work. And it was a regular sized griffon,” he patiently explains. He takes off his swords and puts them on a chair nearby. He kneels down so their eyes are at the same level. “Can you tell me how big are griffons?”

“They’re around two metres at the shoulder!” she recites without hesitation. “A griffin is a hybrid creature and weighs about 900 kilograms.”

He nods, his heart swells with pride. “That’s right. You’re a very smart young lady.”

“Of course I am!” she says and puts her hands on her hips. “I have to read every book you give me. They’re boring sometimes, you know?”

“Only sometimes?”

After a moment of consideration she nods. “It’s good to know all of this. I’m prepared to fight monsters.”

“Hm,” he nods. “Well, for now I got you a small trophy.”

He reaches into his bag and holds up a long brown feather. Billie’s eyes light up, she grabs it and inspects it from every side.

“The griffin was brown? And what about its mane?”

“It was black,” he says. He gets up and walks to his bed. “It was a brown griffin with a black mane. A pretty regular one.”

He begins to take off his boots. Billie plops down on her bed, holds the feather like a sword and stabs the air.

“Have you ever seen another griffin?”

“Only in the books. This was the first one I fought.”

She turns to him, eyes wide. “So you learned how to fight a griffin from books? The same ones I have to read?”

“Similar ones,” he says. When he was her age he was training with other kids brought to the keep. The library there was filled with all kinds of books, some of them in languages he didn’t know. He saw the place burn and all that knowledge turn to ash. It’s no use telling her about the destruction of his witcher school. One day, maybe, when she’s older and understands the world around her a little better.

“When will I go hunting with you?” Billie asks with a pout. “You can’t go on the jobs alone. What if something happens to you? How will I know you’re okay?”

“One day you will.” He lies down with a heavy sigh.

“You always says that,” Billie says with hurt in her voice. “I want to help you. I want you to teach me how to get these powers you have.”

“You’re eight, Billie. One day I’ll teach you everything, I promise. Now, let’s get some sleep. It’s late.”

He doesn’t know where his patience is coming from. But it’s Billie and he’s always been patient with her, as opposed to everyone else, especially stubborn nobles who refused to pay him.

Muffled sounds of music and people’s voices can be heard through the floor but Daud is tired and in need of a nap. He takes off his armour, leaving only his breeches and a shirt. He checks on Billie who’s already sleeping, holding the feather in her hand. He covers her with a blanket, then lies down on his bed. It’s so narrow he can barely fit in it. With a sigh he closes his eyes. If he’s lucky he can get enough sleep before the memory of the last job he did in Dunwall comes back to torment him.

It’s good to be on the road again. They left Karnaca a month ago. He hasn’t yet decided where exactly they’re going but they may get back to the city eventually. He’ll figure it out in the morning, now he needs to get some sleep.

_Every other place is better than Dunwall_ , he thinks before sleep takes him.

* * *

The sound of his swords falling on the floor interrupts his dreamless sleep. Daud jolts awake and listens. The room is dark. Billie is still sleeping, he can hear her breathing. His eyes move to a window. He frowns; he’s quite sure he didn’t leave it wide open. There’s no more noise coming from downstairs.

“Crap,” whispers a voice at the foot of Daud’s bed.

He hears someone pick up his swords and put them back on the chair where the witcher left them. Careful steps walk to a bag Billie carries, the intruder opens it and looks through it. Daud slowly sits up, eyes focused on a surprisingly small figure that broke into their room. The stranger stands with his back to Daud, busy with searching for coins in Billie’s bag and doesn’t notice the witcher standing up.

_A child?_ Daud’s frown deepens. Standing right behind the intruder he sees it is indeed a skinny boy wearing a torn shirt and a pair of pants too big for him, held up in place by a wide leather belt.

_Still, a thief._

He puts a hand on the boy’s face, covering his mouth to prevent him from making too much noise. With the other hand he grabs his arm, squeezing it just enough so the boy drops Billie’s bag. The boy struggles, wiggling like a trapped animal but Daud doesn’t let him escape. He turns him around, his hand still pressed to the thief’s mouth.

“Don’t scream,” he whispers. He leans in so the boy has a good look at the witcher’s cat like eyes. “I don’t want to wake her up. I’ll get angry if you wake her up.”

The boy gulps, his blue eyes so big and full of fear Daud nearly laughs.

“I’ll remove my hand. You better be quiet.”

The boy nods. Daud takes a step back.

“What’s your name, boy?”

The kid freezes, too afraid to move. His eyes dart to the open window, then back to the witcher.

“I asked you a question.”

“Th– Thomas,” he blurts out in a quiet voice. “I didn’t steal nothing!”

“But you wanted to,” Daud points out. “Did you already steal from other guests?”

“Maybe,” Thomas says in a tone that suggests that yes, he stole as much as he could because nobody caught him – until now.

“Do you live in the tavern? You the owner’s kid?”

The boy shakes his head. He has pale blond hair that’s too long and falls into his eyes. “I sleep in a stable by the tavern. The one where you left your horses.”

Seeing a frown between Daud’s brows Thomas moves a step back. “I’m not lying! I’m telling the truth, sir!” he hastily adds, his voice a bit too loud.

“Where are your parents?”

“I’m on my own,” he says in a quiet voice. He lifts up his head, a challenge in his eyes. “And I’m doing just fine!”

“You’re what, five? And you’re a thief,” Daud shakes his head. “You’re _not_ doing fine, kid.”

“I’m six!” Thomas protests, deeply offended someone would think he’s one year younger. His eyes dart to the window again. He sighs. “I’m sorry, sir. Shouldn’t try to steal from you. I didn’t take anything. Can I go? Please?”

Daud regards him for a longer while. The boy stares at the floor, embarrassed. There are bruises on his face; they can’t be older than a day. It looks like he was hit in his face. His hands are bruised, too, nails broken and dirty. He’s not wearing any shoes.

The witcher lets out a heavy sigh. There’s a stabbing pain in his chest, growing stronger the more he looks at this miserable child.

“Who’s that?” comes Billie’s sleepy voice. She sits up on her bed, rubs her face and gives Thomas a wary look. “What he’s doing here?”

“I didn’t steal any of your stuff, I swear!” Thomas squeaks, waving his hands in panic.

“You what?!” Billie jumps on her feet. She points an accusing finger at the boy. “I’ll kick your ass, thief! Nobody takes my things!”

“But I didn’t!!”

“Enough!” Daud hold up a hand. He pinches the bridge of his nose, then looks at Thomas. “Do you want to continue living like this until someone cuts off your hand for stealing or do you want to travel with us? We don’t steal from others.”

“What?!” Billie exclaims just as Thomas mumbles a weak “Huh?!”, both staring at Daud in disbelief.

“You’re not going to sell me to slavers, right?” Thomas asks. There’s considerably less fear in his eyes as if he already got accustomed to the witcher.

Daud shakes his head. “I’m not. I can teach you how to fight.”

“But you’re teaching _me_!” Billie protests, giving Daud an accusatory glare.

“They were many children at witcher school, and they all learned together. Besides, you’re older and you already know so much. You can teach him.”

Billie considers for a moment. “I see,” she says with a satisfied grin. “I do know a lot. He doesn’t know anything yet.”

“We’re going to a witcher school?” Thomas adds in a weak voice.

“There’s no more witcher schools, silly!” Billy says, all anger forgotten. “Daud will teach you everything. He’s the only witcher left in the whole world. And the best one that ever lived, obviously.”

He doesn’t correct her, mainly because he’s not sure himself if what she says is false. He’s an unwanted relict of the past and most people treat him as such. Though they still need someone to take care of monsters, and who’s better for the job than a witcher. He hasn’t seen any other of his kind in so long he may as well be the last one. There were rumours about another witcher living in Dunwall but it seemed highly unlikely at the time. Daud never met him when he still lived in the city.

“How’s it gonna be, Thomas?” Daud asks. “Do you wish to travel with us?”

The boy opens his lips. A faint pink blush appears on his face.

He bits his lower lip and nods vigorously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:   
> A sad orphan child: *exists*  
> Daud: alright, I’m adopting you, say hello to Billie, she’s your sister now. My name’s Daud not Dad, you better remember that, kid.  
> This was the first chapter I finished for this story. What can I say, I like Daud quite a lot for many different reasons.  
> And I imagine Corvo wears [Grandmaster Feline Armour ](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/witcher/images/0/02/Grandmaster-feline-set-look-1024x617.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20170218085038) while Daud wears [Grandmaster Manticore Armour](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/witcher/images/1/1b/Tw3_Blood_and_Wine_Manticore_School_Gear.png/revision/latest?cb=20160913155519).  
> Feedback is always appreciated <3


	3. Corvo II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo makes a decision to leave Dunwall once and for all. Fate has different plans for him.

In public Teague Martin repeats what the Abbey stands for: fight the heretics, send all creatures of the Void back where they came from. Behind closed doors, however, the Overseer employs all kinds of people, including the witcher. Dunwall’s Abbey is a machine and Martin intends to keep it running.

Corvo has worked for Martin before. When the Overseer needs someone to do a secret job for the Abbey, it’s the witcher they hire. Something big must have happened judging by the way Corvo was contacted. Usually he gets a letter delivered by a messenger. The letter includes a short description and states how much coin the witcher gets after the job’s done. No letter this time.

Corvo spoke to Martin only once. Two guards and an Overseer in a creepy golden mask approached him on a street one day and ordered to follow them to a basement of a pub. As he waited among barrels of wine Corvo thought he’s going to die but then the men returned, accompanied by another Overseer. The new man didn’t have a mask, his handsome face on display, and introduced himself as Teague Martin. That was the day Corvo started doing jobs for the Abbey. It’s a mutually beneficial agreement; Corvo never asks about any details, Martin pays well and pretends the witcher doesn’t exist.

_Why not a letter?_ he wonders when he follows the man in white outside. He told Callista to lock the door.

_And if I don’t come back in two days_ , he whispered when she embraced him before he left, _take the money and leave the city. Take care of Emily_.

She had tears in her eyes. Regret and guilt squeezed his throat and he didn’t say anything else after that.

A carriage waits for them outside. The man in white gestures at Corvo to get inside. With a heavy sigh Corvo gets in, followed by the man. Corvo peaks through a small window, observing the streets they pass through. They must be heading towards the Holger Square.

This can’t be about executing him. The Abbey would make a big deal of capturing a witcher. Corvo wouldn’t get the privilege of an unannounced guest _asking_ him to meet Martin and then riding in a carriage. They would beat him up and drag him in chains through a crowd of people screaming and throwing things at him. Capturing a creature such as a witcher would be a great occasion to show how effective the Abbey was against the heretics.

Corvo’s thoughts are interrupted when the carriage suddenly stops. He looks through the window, confused. He can see the Abbey’s high walls. There’s still a short distance between them and the Abbey’s grounds. It’s hard to miss it, the Abbey is so well lit it sticks out in the darkness of the night.

“Follow me,” the man in white repeats once more after they get out. They walk through a narrow street to what looks like a hotel. The strange thing is – there’s no light in high windows and the lobby is dark and empty. They climb the stairs to the second floor, Corvo’s confusion grows with every step, until they arrive at one of many identical doors. There’s no number, which is another weird thing about the place. There’s only a white rose painted on the door. The man pushes the door open and gives Corvo a look as if asking, _Well, what are you waiting for?_

_I should have taken the kitchen knife_ , Corvo thinks and gets inside the room.

There’s a four poster bed in the room with torn sheets and pillows scattered all over the floor. A vase lays broken on a red carpet. There’s a small table near the bed. A silver tray lays on it, with an empty bottle of wine. Two more bottles lay on the floor by a tall window. Pieces of glass are nearby – he recognizes they used to be wine glasses but were thrown on the floor with so much force they shattered into pieces. Broken things are the first what Corvo notices about the room. Then there’s a dark stain on the mattress. He narrows his eyes. It’s dried blood, and there are also traces of blood on one of the bedposts. There’s a faint scent of alcohol in the air, mixed with heavy perfumes.

Among all this chaos stands Teague Martin, looking through the window with his back to the witcher. He turns to Corvo with a polite smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’d ask you to sit, witcher, but it’s best if we don’t.”

Corvo moves closer to the bed. That’s definitely blood on the bedpost and from what he can tell someone’s head hit it really hard. “Want me to find out who did this?”

Much to Corvo’s surprise Martin snorts. “Why would I need that?” he gives Corvo a look as if the witcher was a stupid child. “This kind of sight it’s not, _ah_ , unusual. It’s nothing you should be concerned about.”

Martin’s polite tone is infuriating.

“Then why do you raid my house in the middle of the night, Overseer, and bring me to an empty hotel to look at a devastated room?” he barks, too tired for politeness.

Martin regards him for a moment. He can’t hide the disgust in his eyes. He probably thinks of their cooperation as a necessary evil.

“Look through the window and tell me what you see.” He points at the window.

“The Abbey. Is this some kind of a sick joke?”

“Joke?” now Martin sounds offended. “Far from it. Aren’t witchers supposed to be emotionless? Stop getting angry at everything I say and listen for a moment.”

Corvo folds his arms across his chest, silent.

“That’s the Abbey, correct. It’s close to the place where we’re now,” Martin continues. “A merchant who used to own this hotel was generous enough to donate to it the Abbey.”

Corvo keeps to himself what he thinks that _generous donation_ really was. The Abbey is known for being ruthless. The merchant is most likely at the bottom of the Wrenhaven river.

“We used it as a place for new recruits to stay and High Overseer also uses it for, well, his personal meetings.”

“What did you do with the body?” Corvo asks, eyes shooting daggers at Martin.

It’s only then the Overseer slightly loses his composure. He tugs at the high collar of his robe. When he glances at the witcher there’s a hint of worry in his eyes, his polite smile gone.

“We have them thrown in the sewers beneath the hotel.”

_Them_. _As in multiple bodies and it’s not the first time it happened_. Corvo doesn’t want to ask about details. Disgust crawls up his throat.

“What did your men see in the sewers this time?” he presses. “What do you need a professional like me for?”

Martin lets out a sigh. “I don’t know,” he admits in defeat. “There’s something there, witcher. It killed one of my men, the other one is catatonic. I can’t get anything out of him. He rambles about monsters from the Void but is unable to describe them. He ran away and that saved him. He’s a fast runner, apparently.”

Corvo doesn’t comment.

“I’ll pay you one hundred gold if you take care of whatever appeared in the sewers beneath this hotel. The tunnels are connected, it’ll soon get to the Abbey or go out on the streets. We both don’t want any civilians get slaughtered, don’t we, witcher?”

“Two hundred.”

Martin scoffs. “You must be joking.”

“Two hundred,” Corvo repeats, steel in his voice. “Campbell doesn’t know a man that cleans after his _meetings_ was killed, and you want this to be taken care of quietly. You’ll pay me two hundred gold and the High Overseer will never find out about this.”

They look at each other for a moment. Martin’s known for being friendly and good towards the common folk. He climbs the ranks of the Abbey slowly but surely. If he remains popular and plays his cards right, there’s a high chance he may become the High Overseer one day. He’s can’t risk his reputation.

Martin’s cheek twitches.

“Two hundred gold,” he nods. “You’ll get it done tomorrow. Use the day to get what you need for the job. We’re done here.”

Before he can stop himself, Corvo asks, “Why do you allow this to happen, Martin? Why do you let Campbell do this?”

The Overseer regards him for a moment. His face is emotionless, eyes cold. “What High Overseer Campbell does is none of your concerns. I am but a humble servant of the Abbey. I do as the High Overseer commands.”

Feeling sick, Corvo knocks at the door and waits for the man in white to open them for him.

“I need the access to the sewers. Have one of your men wait for me an hour before sunset tomorrow here in the lobby and open the sewer gate for me,” he adds, giving Martin one more look.

The Overseer nods.

* * *

The sun is ready to set, basking Dunwall in last rays of sunlight for today. Corvo returns to the hotel after spending the day preparing for the job. He only briefly visited his apartment to pick up his gear and tell Callista he’s doing a job. Emily was still sleeping when he left.

_She hasn’t seen me in two days_. Guilt makes him sick but he pushes away the thoughts of his daughter. He needs to focus on the job and with so little information he could gather he needs to be prepared for a lot.

_Two hundred gold_ , he repeats in his mind like a mantra, checking his equipment. With that much coin he’ll be able to leave Dunwall with Emily and Callista. And perhaps it’s time he leaves. The sight of dried blood on the bedpost haunts him. Then there are Martin’s words of devotion to the High Overseer, and it all makes Corvo sick like he bathed in filth and can never be clean again.

He has to remind himself he’s getting paid and then he’ll be done with the Abbey and whatever in the Void Campbell is doing. Martin will need someone else to clean up the Abbey’s mess.

The man in white awaits him with a key to the sewers. With a lit torch in hand he guides Corvo to the hotel’s basement full of wooden barrels smelling of wine. A group of rats scurries away when they step inside. The man holds up a key, unlocks a rusty gate and pushes it open. He doesn’t take a step forward. He’s sweating so much his face is glistening, the hand with the torch shaking.

“I’ll wait here, witcher,” he stammers, clearly trying to sound calm but failing. “I’m locking the gate behind you. Let your mission be successful. You have the High Overseer’s blessing.”

“Campbell doesn’t know I’m here to clean up his mess,” Corvo sneers.

The gate clicks behind him. The witcher expects a witty retort but the man’s gone in an instant, leaving Corvo behind a locked gate.

“Not so confident anymore, huh,” Corvo says to himself and begins to descend stone steps down into a narrow passage. It leads him straight to the sewers, the smell making him wrinkle his nose. He’s done jobs under Dunwall before but it’s never easy to navigate in the maze that’s the city’s sewer system.

Noticing something on the ground he kneels down to see a piece of torn shirt covered in dried blood. He narrows his eyes at something else laying close and picks up a pearl earring. With a grunt he continues forward.

Whatever lurks in the sewers got pretty close to coming up the stairs to the hotel’s basement. Campbell’s sick fantasies result in local whores getting killed and then thrown in the sewers where nobody can ever find them. Corvo’s guess is that the High Overseer has been unknowingly feeding a corpse eater and lured it right into the city. Now he’ll find out if his deduction is right.

After half an hour of walking he notices other parts of clothing and jewellery on the ground. His medallion vibrates under his amour. He stops, looks over his shoulder. Slowly, he reaches for his silver sword. From a small pouch on his hip he takes a vial of oil and pours it on the blade.

The medallion’s vibrations are stronger now despite Corvo not hearing anything. His brows knit as he stands still, listening. The oil drips from the blade, drops falling on the mud. The feeling of being observed makes him uneasy but rather than looking around Corvo concentrates, tuning in to the vibrations of the Void.

The barrier between the real world and the Void is thinner than normal people realise and every being branded as _unnatural_ can tune in to feel the fabric of reality tear to let the Void seep into the world. Corvo suspects the Overseers are trained to feel these vibrations too and that’s how they’re able to tell who’s Marked. In the places where the barrier is so thin even a normal person can sense something’s not right heretics often build shrines, calling out to the Outsider, pleading for His gifts. Not that they ever asked Corvo but if they did, he would tell them to stop wasting their time. The black eyed bastard never listens.

The witcher grips his sword. A hiss comes from behind him, then another from the front. The place isn’t big but it’s big enough for him to swing his sword and fight. Corvo looks over his shoulder. He was right about the type of creature that killed the women from the Golden Cat and Martin’s man.

_Ghouls_. He narrows his eyes, sensing movement in the shadows in front of him. _Could be worse_.

They are smaller than an average person, moving on all fours, their bodies deformed as if they were burned and their skin turned grey. Long sharp claws dig in the mud as they move closer, surrounding the witcher from both sides. There’s five of them, all bald, with small beady eyes and wide mouths full of sharp teeth. One of them wears a necklace of pearls on his neck; it probably belonged to the same woman who lost the earring Corvo now has in his pocket.

Corvo raises his sword and stomps on the ground, growling loudly. The ghouls hiss, all take a step back – all except the one wearing pearls. The witcher’s gaze travels to their leader.

_This one will be trouble._

He growls and stomps again, his distraction works because the ghouls’ hisses get angrier and louder. They don’t pay attention to him reaching to a pouch and when they see a grenade in his hand it’s too late. Corvo flings the grenade at the ones behind him and _Blinks_ just as it explodes, sending two ghouls flying. He’s by them in an instant and slices off their heads one after another. They emit a sound like a frog croaking.

The rest of the pack pounces at him, enraged. The leader’s claws are on him, clawing at his armour and Corvo curses under his breath. He underestimated the ghoul’s speed. He waves his hand summoning a powerful gust of wind. Two ghouls fly in the air and hit the sewer wall with their backs. The leader shrieks, claws digging into the ground and barely flinches. Its small eyes shine with rage. He growls, showing rows of sharp teeth, and before Corvo can react it pounces again and presses the witcher to the muddy ground. It tries to bite but Corvo blocks, trying to cut his head but the bastard is persistent and bites down on the blade with its teeth.

Realising the sword is cowered in oil that burns through its flesh, the creature shrieks and jolts its head away from the sword. Corvo doesn’t waste his chance. He kicks the creature and stabs it between the beady eyes. The blade goes through its head, a sound dies in the ghoul’s throat. Corvo removes his sword, takes a step back from the body convulsing on the ground. He walks to two other ghouls he knocked down with _Windblast_ and cuts clean through their necks to sewer their heads.

Once the whole pack is dead he exhales and wipes his face with the back of his hand. He’s cowered in mud and waste, his clothes drenched and sticking to his skin. _Two hundred gold_ , he reminds himself.

His medallion is still vibrating.

Curious, he steps over the dead ghouls and walks deeper into the sewers, feeling a strong pull of the Void. It calls out to him in a way he can’t comprehend yet can’t resist. If he closed his eyes he’d see a whale singing a sad song, flowing through an empty space. He keeps his eyes open; the Void isn’t the best place to visit.

Hearing something snap under his boot Corvo stops. The ground is littered with bones. He sheathes his sword and looks around a small corridor. It leads nowhere, it’s a dead end, and it looks to be the ghouls’ “base” or simply a place where they dragged their victims. He notices pieces of clothes, so dirty there’s no way he can say if they belonged to the dead women or Martin’s man. Remains of bodies are piled on one side, the stench so strong it almost makes Corvo back away. And then, at the end, among bones and dirty jewellery, lays a rune.

It sings a song to him, in a language he can’t understand. His body moves on its own, Corvo reaches out, the need to _touch it_ and _take it_ and _make it his_ so strong everything else is momentarily forgotten. He has it in his hand and it whispers unknown words to him, surrounded in black smoke that seems to materialize around it in some mysterious way. It laid in mud and dirt yet it’s clean, not a single speck of dust dares to ruin its perfection. Corvo presses the run to his chest so hard like he wanted to push it through his armour. He gasps, the rune disappears in a puff of smoke, and for a moment he feels it – the Void engulfs him, he’s being drowned in black water and smoke under a purple sky, he floats in a place where there’s no up or down. In the corner of his eye he sees Him – a young man with black eyes.

The rune is gone, the medallion stills. Corvo opens his eyes.

* * *

Corvo tosses a bag to Martin’s feet. The Overseer wrinkles his nose at the sight of dark blood seeping through the fabric. The man in white standing by his side takes a step back. They waited for the witcher outside the hotel.

“Open the bag, tell me what’s inside,” Martin commands, his voice muffled because he’s pressing a grey handkerchief to his face.

His subordinate obeys, reluctantly undoes the rope and gags, smelling the rotten flesh. He looks up, his face sweaty and pale. The hands holding the bag tremble.

“What is it?!” Martin prompts, impatient.

The man whines and finally opens the bag to see its contents. His eyes go wide, skin turns so pale he now resembles a corpse. His body jolts, he bends in half and vomits on the ground.

“Well? Describe what you see!” Martin demands.

Corvo scoffs, impatiently tapping his foot. “Ghouls. Five of them. Once you’re done staring at their heads burn them.”

“The– the witcher is right, sir,” the man stutters, trembling. He moves away from the bag. “Heads of some monsters. Hideous, sharp teeth and I, uh… I believe they’re called ghouls like the witcher says.”

“Take the bag and tell the men to burn these heads and scatter the ashes.”

The man nods, picks up the bag with a shaking hand and runs past Martin as fast as he can.

“How did _ghouls_ get inside Dunwall’s sewers?” Martin puts his handkerchief in a pocket and purses his lips. There’s a pang of worry in his voice. “Don’t they usually stay near battlefields and such?”

“Your men threw corpses in the sewers, I imagine it happened regularly. The bodies most likely ended up outside the city. The ghouls aren’t some mindless creatures, they figured out where their food was coming from. Your High Overseer served them meals and they wanted more so they went inside the sewers to get close to the source.”

Corvo glances at Martin who doesn’t comment on the witcher’s explanation, seemingly deep in thoughts.

He sighs, impatience growing stronger with each passing second. “My gold, Martin?”

Teague Martin shakes his head, his thoughts disrupted. “Of course, your gold.” He fishes out a large bag from inside his Overseer robe. When the witcher reaches for it, he holds it up, his cold gaze on Corvo. “I trust you know to keep all this to yourself, witcher? I don’t need to remind you if you dare to tarnish the High Overseer’s reputation the Abbey will stop pretending you don’t exist.”

Corvo snatches the bag of coins from Martin’s hand. “The High Overseer is pretty good at tarnishing his reputation all by himself, he doesn’t need me to do it for him. Your secrets are safe with me. Don’t contact me again. I’m leaving Dunwall.”

“Oh? Bored of the city and looking for an adventure?” Martin has an amused tone but there’s something else in his eyes and Corvo doesn’t quite get what it is.

It’s as if the Overseer knows something about Corvo. Something Corvo doesn’t know about himself.

Martin’s gaze makes him unreasonably angry. Corvo doesn’t reply, only repeats to never contact him again.

“May the spirits guide you, witcher,” Martin gives him a courteous nod.

Corvo leaves him without a goodbye, not that Martin deserves one. Dunwall has become a sick, broken organism that refuses to die for its own good. Teague Martin is one of the people who force it to continue living. If it was to Corvo, he’d burn the city to the ground.

He finds a barrel of water and cleans the worst stains on his clothes. The stench is almost unbearable. Looks like the first thing he buys with Martin’s gold will be a new set of armour.

He gets on a nearby roof and _Blinks_ to another. It’s the fastest and safest way of travelling through the city. He feels an impending headache from using his powers without rest but he still pushes forward, _Blinking_ from rooftop to rooftop. He’s tense and irritated, partially at himself for doing he Abbey’s dirty work again, partially at Martin for using him. He also can’t forget the look the Overseer gave him, and it all forms a hot coal in his gut, a ball of nerves. It makes him push through the fatigue and move forward until he’s close to the place he doesn’t but maybe should call home.

Corvo drops down to a street, the building where he lives is around the corner. Callista was very clear about him coming and going through a window. Besides, he can’t risk anyone seeing him.

Then he stops, sensing something is wrong. The medallion doesn’t react but the hot coal in his guts burns with more intensity. He darts forward, runs towards the entrance of the building but abruptly stops seeing what’s happening there.

The City Watch arrived, two guards are shouting at a small gathering of people in front of the building. Most people are wearing nightclothes, one woman is crying, wrapped in a woollen blanket while another hugs a small baby to her chest. Corvo can’t say he recognises any of these people. He never cared to get to know his neighbours. He sometimes heard the small child crying through the walls, or someone arguing. It’s better when they’re strangers to each other.

“I’ll ask you all again,” one of the guards booms, holding up a sword. “If any of you know about heretical practices happening in this building, they better come forward and tell me. We’re waiting for Overseers to arrive and together with the City Watch we will cleanse your houses of the evil presence.”

Corvo scans the crowd. Callista and Emily aren’t here. His heart beats faster, the hot ball inside him close to exploding.

“And who the fuck are you?” the other guard shouts in his direction. “You live here, mister? Where have you been, why are you coming home so late?”

The guard crosses the distance between them, his angry glare demanding answers.

“I’m talking to you! Answer when addressed by the City Watch!” he shouts and draws his sword.

Maybe he only wants to impress the other guard, show he’s a tough guy who has the power of the law on his side. He’s around thirty, has a round face with a short beard. Just an ordinary man serving the city and trying to survive like everyone else.

“Where did you get these swords? Answer me, damn it, or I’m taking you to Coldridge!”

_Emily’s not here_. It’s all Corvo can think about. He can’t forget Martin’s mysterious look. Blood is pounding in his ears.

The guard shoves him or tries to because Corvo moves away. The guard swears, almost falling on his face, shouts angrily at the witcher and strikes. Corvo doesn’t know when he grabbed his sword but he has it in his hands and parries with ease.

“The eyes!” the guard squeals, sword falling from his hands. “By the Void, his eyes!”

He’s silenced as Crovo pierces him with his steel sword, the blade pushing though his chest. A woman shrieks, the small crowd of people erupts with panic, while the other guard stares at the lifeless body collapsing on the ground.

“Stop!” he yells, his voice trembling just barely so, sword ready to fight.

He’s too slow, the witcher is by him in an instant, slashing his neck. The man falls with a gurgling sound. With trembling hands he presses the gaping wound in a futile attempt to stop the blood from flowing.

The crowd scatters, screaming. Corvo pays them no attention focused only on one goal: get to Emily. He _Blinks_ up the stairs until he reaches his door, forces himself to ignore his fatigue. He kicks it open and stops, eyes wild as he takes in what’s happening.

Standing near the bed Callista looks at him with teary eyes, blood flowing from her nose. A guard holds her wrist, struggles to keep her in place. They both still when Corvo arrives. The witcher reaches for a knife he has strapped in a sheath on his thigh and throws it with a hiss. Callista screams, the knife lands right between the guard’s eyes and he collapses. She takes a step back, horrified, the back of her legs hits the bed and she falls.

Corvo is already focused on someone else. Two guards stand at the door leading to Emily’s room, their heated argument is cut short when they see the witcher. One of them curses seeing the other guard get hit with the knife. The other attempts to pounce at Corvo with his sword. A strong gust of wind hits them both, sends them flying across the room. Their heads hit the wall with so much force they leave bloody stains.

Corvo doesn’t check if they’re dead, what matters is that the way to Emily is clear and he gets inside the room, mad with worry. The world goes still, his hand trembles. His eyes go wide and he refuses to believe what he sees is true.

Emily lies on the floor, gasping for air. Her tiny fists clutch the shirt on her chest where a red stain grows with every shallow breath she takes. Her eyes are open, glassy, not seeing.

Corvo is by her in a heartbeat, cradling her in his arms, his whole body shaking. The rage in his mind disappears, giving in to a wave of paralysing fear. He can’t think, can’t do anything else than cradle his child in his arms, whispering, “No, no, please, no”.

Something cold crawls up his throat and squeezes so hard he can’t breathe, and for a second Corvo is sure he’s going to break, mad with grief after failing to protect the only person he loves.

His medallion vibrates. Corvo lowers his head and weeps, mumbling pleas under his breath. The aching in his chest is so strong he can’t bear it.

His medallion vibrates again, so strongly it seems to burn through his clothes. The air in the room gets cold, there’s a hint of smoke. Corvo straightens his back. He shivers at a strange sensation, like a cold hand caressing the back of his neck. Black sparks fly in the air, appear and disappear all around them. Purple light comes from the left but there’s nothing there to emit that sort of light. Corvo looks down at Emily. She seems frozen in place; the blood stopped flowing.

Corvo slowly exhales. He looks up and there He is, a black eyed man floating above Emily’s bed.

“Corvo, my dear friend,” the Outsider speaks, half a smile on his lips. “Look what they’ve done to your little Empress. How unfortunate.”

Corvo can’t speak. Fear claws at his throat. He promised himself he would _never_ …

Emily is cold in his arms. He can’t bear to look at her lifeless face.

“Help her,” he whispers in a raspy voice. “Please, help her.”

“You’re right, I have the power to save her.” The Outsider pats his chin with his index finger. “It kills you to even ask me this. You wanted your girl to have a normal life, remember?”

“Please,” Corvo sobs, his body shaking. “If there’s a way to save her…”

“Of course there is, my friend. But you must make a choice.” He leans in, bottomless eyes staring right into Corvo’s. “Will you let her die as an ordinary girl? Or will you give her to me and force her to live as an unnatural creature, as the Abbey likes to call he ones I choose? What do you wish to do, Corvo?”

“She’s yours,” Corvo says, no hesitation in his trembling voice. “As long as you save her now, she’s yours.”

There’s a hint of amusement on the Outsider’s pale face.

“Very well, my friend. Now, wipe the tears from your face. There’s a long road ahead of you. You must hurry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: writing High Chaos Corvo is a challenge because I normally try to keep Low Chaos in the game. But Low Chaos Corvo would react differently, both to Martin’s request and the guards who came to his home, so Murder Dad Corvo it is.  
> Feedback is very much appreciated <3


	4. Intermission – the Void (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Void all exists at once and the Outsider watches with great interest.

A lone whale sings its sad song swimming through a purple sky. It doesn’t know where it’s going. It doesn’t even know how it can exist in a place like this – a space between time and place, a bottomless ocean, forever shifting and changing.

The Outsider lets out a sigh. The whale is gone, the sky turns black. At His feet a small candle burns with a blue flame, the only light in the darkness that surrounds him like a blanket. He turns his head to watch a moment from the world of the living, one of countless moments he has witnessed.

Empress Jessamine Kaldwin sits on her throne and listens to trusted advisors talking about a beast terrorizing the city. Some claim it’s a vampire, others deny such creature exists. Another Overseer gets killed, the Abbey still pretends vampires don’t exist. The Empress worries so much her head hurts and she can barely stand listening to her advisors argue among themselves. Until one of them suggests, in a quiet voice, “What if we hire a witcher?”

Others laugh and sneer at him.

If the Outsider cared, He’d tell her that, first of all, they aren’t her trusted advisors. They are snakes wriggling at her feet, waiting for an occasion to bite.

And second of all, He’d ask her if she’s ready for a meeting that will change her life.

The Empress insists she needs to speak to the man himself. The advisors relent, what else they can do, they are her loyal subjects (until they aren’t because they’re already plotting against her; snakes, don’t forget).

The witcher doesn’t speak much, has to be told to kneel in the presence of the Empress, and dares to haggle over the reward. The advisors consider him a rude simpleton. Much to their shock the Empress agrees to the witcher’s terms. When the meeting is over the men will gather behind a closed door and ask if she lost her mind, accepting the witcher’s terms like that.

The Outsider narrows his black eyes at the scene he’s observing. Jessamine smiles at the man kneeling in front of her. Corvo’s face is as emotionless as ever. He nods and wishes the Empress a good night when he gets up to leave. He promises he’ll get rid of the creature, no matter what it is, so the Empress may sleep in peace.

They don’t know it yet but they’re going to fall in love.

* * *

The sky turns blue. Another whale drifts in the Void, singing its sad song.

On the day her daughter is born Jessamine cries. The Outsider watches with a blank face as the Empress holds her child in her arms, surrounded by only one maid, the one she truly trusts.

The official story is that the Empress is unwell and moved to Whitecliff for the time being, leaving Dunwall, and the Empire of the Isles, in the care of her advisors and the Parliament. She tried to keep her secret hidden for as long as she could but ultimately she has to make a decision. Jessamine presses her daughter to her chest and cries.

Five people know about the child. Three of them will die before the Empress. Two of them will betray her. But nobody knows who’s the father. They suspect it’s a noble the Empress favours and frequently meets. _A royal couple should rule together_ , some say. _A strong Empire needs an Emperor, too_ , others add.

Jessamine’s most treasured secret was her affair. Now it’s the child she holds.

She orders the maid to take her child and travel to the outskirts of the city to a small orphanage run by old women. Jessamine begs the maid to say the child is hers, so the next Kaldwin in line can grow up safe, believing she’s a daughter of an ordinary woman.

The maid promises to keep the child, Emily, safe. Jessamine cries for the rest of the night. In the morning she gets on a ship that takes her back to Dunwall. She will rule for six more years until the men she trusts betray her and hire a killer to pierce a sword through her heart. The Empress will die whispering her daughter’s name.

The maid will deliver a letter to a man who makes her afraid, the witcher Jessamine hired all those years ago to save Dunwall from a vampire. She won’t speak to him, only leave a letter with Jessamine’s wax seal. She won’t make it back to the Tower to prepare for the Empress’ funeral.

The maid will die in a torture room, bones shattered, coughing up blood and crying. She will keep the Empress’ secret safe until her last breath, like she promised.

* * *

Emily Kaldwin is six and clueless about her parentage. She has a roof above her head and her own bed in the orphanage, until one day she wakes up in the middle of the night woken up by screams and smoke. Fire burns so bright for a moment she thinks it’s sunrise already.

The Outsider watches a lone rider travel from Dunwall to Whitecliff. Corvo left the city as soon as he got the letter. He’s almost too late. Luckily, a witcher is not an ordinary man and he forces himself to ride without sleep or food, urging his horse to ride faster.

It’s so silent in the Void compared to the orphanage burning and screams of women being pulled from their beds and gathered in a square by a group of thugs. Their leader examines every child one by one, searching for the one that may resemble the late Empress. Emily stands in line with other orphans and shakes in fear. She’s just some maid’s child, surely they can’t be after her. They’re here for one of her friends and they will burn her home to the ground. Paralyzed by fear she wishes she could do something.

The Outisder hears her thoughts and smiles. One day He will grant her the power she seeks. She needs to be patient.

The witcher arrives and doesn’t ask, doesn’t even speak but kills every single man who attacked the orphanage. He’s dancing between them. Emily can’t take her eyes off him.

And that’s how Emily and her father meet. She’s the only child left, everyone else runs away as far from the carnage as they can. The orphanage burns behind her back as she watches, transfixed, the strange man approach her. His yellow eyes shine, his armour is drenched in blood, long dark hair tangled.

“Emily,” he says in a low, rough voice of a man who prefers silence to useless chatter.

He kneels down, takes off a glove and offers her his hand.

Emily takes it.

* * *

One year of peace and then the moment finally comes. If the Outsider was human he’d say he’s _excited_.

“Corvo, my dear friend. Look what they’ve done to your little Empress. How unfortunate.”

The Outsider almost wants to tell Corvo he shouldn’t beg or cry. This was always going to happen. The Outsider waited for the moment to come and it finally came, young Emily slowly dying in Corvo’s arms.

“Please. If there’s a way to save her…”

“Of course there is, my friend. But you must make a choice.” This is the moment He’s been waiting for. “Let her die as an ordinary girl? Give her to me and live as an unnatural creature, as the Abbey likes to call the ones I choose? What do you wish to do, Corvo?”

Corvo tells Him what he was always supposed to say in this moment. Knowing the outcome doesn’t diminish the Outisder’s satisfaction from hearing the witcher’s words. Quite contrary, it gives Him the power He needs. What’s a god without mortals believing and pleading to Him?

An old witcher keep lies in ruins. Corvo takes his horse and leaves Dunwall behind, arrives at the keep when the moon is high in the sky. The Outsider shows him a tunnel that goes deep underground and Corvo walks through a maze with Emily in his arms, determined, his grief slowly changing to anger directed towards the people who ordered his daughter killed. His rage has to wait, however, until much longer.

“You found the place,” the Outsider says, floating above a small altar carved in stone.

There are black marks on the walls and floor, painted long before the keep was built. The markings doesn’t mean anything to Corvo. This is a language of a long dead civilization. The barrier between the human world and the Void is so thin here there’s panic in Corvo’s eyes not only because his child is dying but also because he can see the vastness of the Void behind the Outsider’s back. It calls out to him. Such trivial things like time or pain don’t exist in the Void; the witcher could forget it all if he simply crossed the line to the other world.

“Place her on the altar,” the Outisder instructs.

Corvo’s moment of weakness is gone. He falls on his knees and watches a black mark appear on his daughter’s left hand. Her body jolts and she inhales. The wound on her chest is gone, all damage repaired.

“Thank you,” comes Corvo’s quiet voice.

“No need to thank me.” The Outsider shakes His head.

_This was always going to happen, my dear friend._

* * *

“Train and teach her. I’ll be watching with great interest,” He told Corvo the day the witcher brought Emily to the old keep.

And He watches them from the Void, how the girl grows and covers the Mark on her hand with a black fingerless glove. He watches them travel across Gristol. Corvo accepts different assignments, works alone, until one day he takes Emily with him and she kills her first drowner with a silver sword. The Void whispers to her and she bends it to her will, using her powers in a way that’s similar to her father’s yet so different.

A year passes, then two, three and ten, and although time doesn’t matter to Him it matters to them. There are more wrinkles around Corvo’s eyes and Emily’s not a small child with bony arms anymore. She’s nearly as tall as her father. One day she’ll become more powerful than him.

Sometimes Emily asks Corvo about the Outsider. He grunts something in response, doesn’t tell her much other than calling Him a black eyed bastard. The Outsider smiles. It may be true that He doesn’t play favourites, yet there’s something about Corvo that makes him… fascinating.

_You and I will meet again one day_ , He thinks observing Emily. She swings her training sword and attacks a tree trunk. _Not today but the moment will come._

* * *

Dirty water drips from the ceiling, puddles form on a wooden floor. The house is ruined, broken furniture scattered in every corner, most windows either broken or barred with wooden planks.

“There’s something _wrong_ about this place,” people from the town whisper among themselves. At times they talked about screams and strange sounds coming from that house. They don’t dare to go and check what lives in there. Some feel uneasy when coming too close to the house, like something was watching them, something foul.

One day a child goes missing. A group of children play hide and seek; one of them doesn’t return. One of the kids says he saw the missing boy crawl through an open window to a basement of that house.

In the evening men gather with torches and sticks in front of the house. One bangs at the door with his fist, others get ready to storm inside. They spoke to an Overseer who told them to pray and be not afraid; a righteous man always triumphs over forces of evil.

An old lady opens the door. Her eyes are white, shoulders hunched. She’s dressed in clothes more fit for a noble, not some old woman living in a crumbling house. She invites them inside.

“There’s nothing to fear, just the old Granny,” she mumbles in a raspy voice.

It’s an old village, people have known each other for years, yet nobody has ever seen her or knows when she came to this place. The men split up, some go upstairs to search the rooms. They find nothing but broken furniture and dusty old tomes. Others go downstairs to check the basement but don’t find anything other than empty barrels and rats running away from the torchlight. They leave the house. Nobody ever sees the old woman go out. Sometimes at night there’s a light coming from that basement window. It looks purple – it can’t be right, it surely only looks purple in the darkness of the night.

A week passes, the boy is nowhere to be found. His parents organize a funeral. A small coffin is put in the ground, empty.

The next day rats appear. First, in the houses near the old lady’s house. They crawl through holes in the walls, bite on every piece of food they can find, then through curtains and cloths.

The rats spread through the whole town like a plague. Whole families leave, rumours circulate among people – whoever gets bitten suffers from a terrible fever. Soon there’s nobody left in town. Except one old lady who lives in a ruined house.

One night the woman goes down to her basement, pushes one of the bricks in a wall to reveal a secret passage to a small chamber. She lights up candles surrounding an altar on which a rune lays. It emits sparks and small puffs of black smoke, sizzling as if it was burning. In front of the altar lies a body of a young boy with the Outsider’s Mark carved on his thin chest. Purple curtains with silver markings painted on them hang behind the altar.

Through a small tear in the fabric of reality the Void leaks into the world. The old woman touches the rune, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” she says, not looking at a figure materializing behind her.

The Outsider hovers in the air, arms folded over his chest. “I promised I’ll visit you again one day.”

“Yes, you did.” She straightens her back and turns, her blind eyes looking through him. “One last visit before my death. Do like my gift for you?”

The Outsider’s black eyes glance at the dead child with a fake Mark carved on his skin.

“I’m here to keep my promise, Vera,” he says, his eyes returning to the old lady.

“I see.” She turns back to the altar, caresses the rune with a thin finger. “Any words of advice?”

“Two Marked Ones are coming for you. Don’t make it too difficult for them. They have a long road ahead of them.”

He disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving Vera Moray alone in the shrine she made for Him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Intermission or how I like to call it “the exposition chapter”.  
> Thank you for your feedback on this story. Next chapter will be up soon.  
> Comments are appreciated <3


	5. Emily I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily, now a skilled witcheress, accepts an assignment with Corvo.

The air smells of rain. A storm has passed, the sky is clear. An old, empty barn is as good as any other place to hide from the rain.

Emily kneels on the ground, hands on her knees, eyes closed. She slowly exhales, concentrating. With every breath the sounds around her get quieter, and then the only sounds she hears are her own heartbeat, her father’s, and a low tune of the Void calling out to her.

_If we travel west the barrier will get thinner_ , she thinks, turns her head to where the odd, unsettling sound seems stronger. _But there’s something closer…_

She stills, focused on a sensation like a ripple in the fabric of reality. Something _unnatural_ is close, she can feel it. A frown appears between her brows. She’s not good at it but she needs to learn how to find those things. She’s not that scared little girl anymore, she’s a witcheress.

Corvo stands by the barn door and observes her, arms folded. He keeps his long dark hair in a low ponytail. He pays more attention to his beard than his hair, and keeps the beard short. Sometimes Emily teases him that one day his hair will be longer than hers. He considers cutting it short though truth be told he doesn’t care much about his appearance.

The frown on Emily’s face deepens. All of the sudden she opens her eyes, gasps, and jumps on her feet.

“I found it!” she exclaims. She shoots Corvo an excited look and sprints past him.

There’s a house by the barn and she runs inside it. The front door is missing, she stops in what used to be a kitchen to look around, eyes searching. _Upstairs!_ Her senses guide her. She runs up the stairs, pushes a door open to stop inside a dusty bedroom. Emily gets on her knees, reaches under a broken bed and takes out a wooden box.

With a grin, she opens it to reveal a small Bonecharm. It emits tiny, barely visible black sparks and hisses quietly. She puts it in her satchel and feels a surge of power. She’ll examine its properties later. This thing will surely be useful, she only needs to discover how.

“Got it!” She pats her bag and beams at Corvo waiting for her outside. “I’m getting better at this.”

“I’m glad my training doesn’t go to waste.” He pats her on the shoulder. “Let’s go. We should get to a village before sunset.”

They get their horses and ride together. It’s another day of following the road, no clear destination in mind. The road is empty for most of the day. As time passes they see a town in the distance. It can barely be called a town as they discover upon entering it. The good news is that it has a tavern – it means they can spend the night sleeping on beds for a change.

While Corvo goes to ask for a room, Emily ties their horses outside the tavern. She notices a notice board with mostly old, torn parchments pinned to it, official announcements of sorts. They’re also some handwritten notes about someone looking to sell produce or offering work. There are initials scratched among the papers, love declarations and names with hearts around them. _This Clara sure is popular_ , Emily muses with a smile, noticing the name scratched on the board in three different places.

Then her eyes fall on one of the better looking papers pinned to the board, the text written in a neat handwriting.

_Anyone knows how to read, read this, and read it carefully._

_Great evil lives in the town called Maidstone. The once beautiful town is now empty, corrupted by the evils from the Void. Do not approach it or you shall be eaten by hordes of bloodthirsty rats._

_A reward shall be paid to anyone who banishes the evil that ruined Maidstone. Brave souls wishing to know more information see Mr. Talsin from The Thirsty Lute._

Emily reads it again, turns around, eyes searching. The Thirsty Lute is the name of the tavern they’re sleeping in tonight. She rips the parchment from the board. Corvo waits for her at the entrance.

“Corvo,” she begins; she tries to sound professional. “It looks like a job for us.”

As glad as she is to live free they still need coin which means they have to accept all sorts of jobs. All contracts they’ve accepted lately were awfully tedious. One was about tracing down a pack of wolves. Another about killing drowners that came too close to a village. Nothing like the stories Corvo used to tell. No exciting adventures, just regular boring jobs. She hands him the notice.

“Bloodthirsty rats?” he says in a tone she knows all too well. He uses it to dissuade her from something when he thinks it’s not a good idea.

“It can be easy money for us. Worst case scenario, we’ll have to deal with some rats.”

“What if it’s not just rats?” he raises an eyebrow and gives her a serious look.

“I thought we need coin. And this isn’t a contract about killing a highly intelligent monster that we have to prepare for two days,” she points out. “Like I said, easy money.”

From the expression on her father’s face she can already tell he’s not convinced.

“I got us a room at the back,” he waves at the tavern. “I’ll go unpack. You go ahead and ask around.”

She nods, bites her lower lip to stop herself from smiling. The tavern is rather small but looks clean most likely thanks to a busty woman currently sweeping the floor between the tables. She has a long blonde braid pinned to her head that sort of looks like a halo. There’s an old lute hanging above the entrance. Emily catches one of the patrons glaring at her but he looks away when their eyes meet. He’s sitting in the corner, hunched over the table, with a mug in hand. Other patrons don’t pay them much attention. Corvo takes their belongings and heads to a door at the back.

“Excuse me,” Emily says to the woman. “I’m looking for Mr. Talsin.”

The lady looks her up and down, twists her lips, her expression wary. “That’s him.” She points at the barkeep. “You’re here about Maidstone?”

She nods at the notice in Emily’s hands.

“I think my father and I can help. Do you know what happened in that town?”

The woman stops sweeping. She takes a step closer to Emily, her hands hold the broom tightly. Her face is tense; perhaps if she feels threatened she’ll hit Emily with it.

“Are you from the Abbey?” the lady asks in a hushed tone.

“No, not at all,” Emily shakes her head. She speaks in a quiet voice, too. The barkeep is watching them from across the room.

“I’ll tell you what happened in Maidstone, miss. Some folks survived and came here, to us, and begged for help. Nobody who went to Maidstone to help came back. So the mayor put up the notice, said he’ll pay a large sum to anyone who deals with the evil that lives there. Nobody wants that money, miss. Not worth losing your life for gold.”

Her eyes sparkle with excitement, not exactly matching her ominous tone. Emily nods. _They don’t get many new people here_ , she thinks. The woman is excited to share this story with someone who’s never heard it before.

“What kind of evil?” Emily asks.

“Straight from the Void,” the lady whispers, her eyes wide. “What other evil could wipe out an entire town and send rats that eat people alive?” She stops, gives Emily a judging look and continues after a while. “If you ask me, miss, someone from Maidstone offended the Outsider. He never forgives. And what is it for Him to just wipe out an entire town of people? Like this!” she snaps her fingers.

“I see,” Emily nods with polite interest. “You mentioned rats..?”

“Lucia!” comes a booming voice. “Get back to work! The floor’s not gonna clean itself!”

The woman jolts, shoots the bartender an angry glare. He’s a tall man with a noticeable belly, has a beard and moustache as dark as his eyes.

He sets aside a glass he was cleaning and gestures at Emily. “Got any questions, miss? You’re a very curious lady.”

“I’m looking for Mr. Talsin,” she says. She sits down on a chair next to him, shows him the parchment.

“Well, you found him. You want this job?”

“My father and I can help.”

“That Serkonian fellow with long hair’s your father?” he narrows his eyes at her. “He carries two swords, like you,” he nods at the swords on her back.

“We’re trained mercenaries,” she lies. She’s told this lie so many times it rolls off her tongue with ease. “Travelling through Gristol looking for work. I’ve seen enough to know we’re be able to help.”

“Hm.” There’s a spark of suspicion in his dark eyes. He reaches under the counter, takes out a large bottle without a label, and two glasses. Emily shakes her head. He ignores her and pours wine into the glasses.

“Mercenaries, you say.” He takes a sip. “The mayor will pay anyone who deals with Maidstone. Like this town, Maidstone is on his land and he wants people living there to happily work for him. Instead, they die eaten by rats. You see that’s a big problem for him.”

“Then why the notice mentions you, not him?”

He scoffs. “Because I live here, the town’s close to Maidstone, while the mayor lives in his fancy estate away from rats and us, poor people. I’m his man here so he doesn’t need to bother leaving his house.”

“So if I’m interested in the job I only need to talk to you, Mr. Talsin?”

His dark eyes watch her like a hawk. He pours more wine into his glass.

“When I was a kid we had this… _thing_ living in the swamps,” he begins, glass in hand. “Kids couldn’t go too far from home. My mother would always remind me to never go near the swamps. One day a woman went missing. Then her sister. Then the blacksmith. They vanished without a trace. The mayor sent word to the Abbey, they send an Overseer. The Overseer went to the swamps and didn’t return.”

He takes another sip. Emily keeps silent and listens.

“The mayor gathered all people right here in front of the tavern. It used to be my parents’ tavern, I watched it all from the window. He asked everyone to donate as much coin as they could, nobody said a thing, and told them it’s time to send for someone who can help them. The next day a man came to town, carrying two swords on his back. My grandpa told me it has to be two swords because one is for monsters, the other for humans. And I’ve never seen a man with two swords on his back again, until today.”

“What about the monster from the swamps?” Emily asks, staring right into Talsin’s eyes.

He shrugs. “It died, whatever it was. The witcher took the coin and no one else went missing.” He takes another sip and exhales. His eyes are on Emily again, cold and judging. “You and your father can take the contract if you want. Too many people died already to send another peasant with a stick. I think _mercenaries_ have a particular set of skills for the job.” He gives her a look. “Can’t say much what you’re going to find there. It’s some foul thing from the Void, people say. And rats, the kind that eats people.”

She nods. “We’ll stay for the night and leave after the sunrise. Is Maidstone far?”

“Ride west for ten miles from here and you’ll get there. You can’t miss it, lots of empty houses and a square with a monument of the late Emperor Euhorn Kaldwin, may he rest in peace.” He lifts up his glass in a toast and finishes his drink. “The mayor left coin with me, one hundred for the job done. That’s enough for you and your father to take it?”

“It is.”

She expected a higher reward though she’s not going to complain. Coin is coin, and finding new assignments is getting more difficult lately.

She tells Talsin they’ll talk again when the job is done. He nods; the look he gives her is rather sceptical.

Emily goes to a room on the back where Corvo waits. He’s sitting on one of two beds, cleaning his small crossbow. He took off his armour, now wears only breeches and an undershirt. He also untied his hair. It falls on his shoulders and back like a dark cape.

The room is tiny; there’s nothing else in there other than the beds with a small table between them, and with the two of them and their belongings the space is packed. The only source of light is a candle on the table. Through a window behind the beds she can see a backyard with a big black wolfhound sleeping under an apple tree.

“How did it go?” Corvo asks. He puts the crossbow away.

There’s slight concern in his eyes. Then again, her father always looks worried.

“We got a contract.” She sits down on the other bed. “One hundred gold. The town’s not far from here.”

Corvo hums in approval. He drags his hand through his hair and ties it back in a ponytail.

_Maybe his hair is really longer than mine_ , Emily muses with amusement.

* * *

Soon after sunrise they’re on the road again, heading west. The fields around them are empty, the harvest season finished. The sky is filled with clouds.

They arrive at Maidstone, leave the horses tied to a sign welcoming them to the town. At first glance everything seems to be in order – the town’s rather small, with old homes built next to each other and narrow alleys between them. They make their way through the main road towards a square with a monument mentioned by Talsin. The illusion of peace is broken as Emily notices more and more things out of place. A broken fence, smashed windows, a pile of clothes and a dirty teddy bear laying in mud. And then there’s the unnatural silence. Not even wind howls between the houses, the whole town still and silent as if waiting. Emily feels her whole body tense. There’s something here, she can sense it. Her medallion vibrates slightly.

She takes out her sword. She’s being watched but she can’t say who or what has their eyes on her. The roads are dirty, trees dead. A wagon was left in the middle of the square, in front of the statue of the old Emperor. _Euhorn Kaldwin_ , says the name on a marble plate. The man has a stern face with a beard and moustache, stands straight with one hand behind his back, and what looks like a map in the other. She stops to look at the statue while Corvo doesn’t pay much attention to it, glancing around with a sword in hand.

There’s a faint tug at the back of her head, accompanied by a soft tune. Emily turns her head towards the source. She exchanges a look with Corvo; he can sense it, too.

“What do you feel, Emily?”

She slowly exhales and focuses. Her eyes shine yellow, the world around her turns purple and grey, the Void whispering to her as she uses her powers to see through walls and look for living beings.

“Over there,” she points. Her eyes are focused on a mass of rats moving in a basement of a ruined house. They shift constantly as if they weren’t living creatures but were made out of smoke.

And then, deeper, she sees a glowing shape surrounded by sparks and smoke.

“A rune,” she tells Corvo. Her eyes return to normal. “And lots of rats.”

“They may look like rats but I don’t think they’re ordinary rats,” he says, his voice grim. “Someone summoned them. Be careful, they’re hiding somewhere here. We need to get to them before they get to us.”

She nods. “Lead the way.”

They walk over to a ruined house. The song from the Void gets louder in Emily’s head. There’s no mistake, there’s a rune in there. And something else, too; a part cut off from the Void and placed in this world that bleeds forbidden magic. Emily doesn’t want to focus on it for too long, it makes her shiver. She’s never visited the Void but imagines that’s how it feels like – numbness spreading through her body, cold and unrelenting.

Corvo pushes the door that opens with a creak. They step inside an unnaturally dark hallway. The darkness seems to be a mass that wants to swallow them, and even with their supernatural ability to see in the dark it’s difficult to navigate. Emily gestures at a staircase leading down and Corvo nods. They descend, their steps careful.

The basement has a low ceiling, the air is filled with dust. Emily wrinkles her nose. A foul smell of rotten flesh gets stronger as they make their way through the room.

“Watch out!” Corvo warns, pulling her by the arm.

She hears it now, the sound of rats running towards them, squeaking, their tiny claws scratching the stone floor. They appear as a dark mass leaping right at her and Emily yelps, jumps back and swings her sword at them. The blade hits some of them, slicing through their small bodies. They turn into puffs of dark smoke and sparks, leave black blood on her sword. She winces with disgust.

Others renew their attack but are struck with a gust of wind that makes them fly and disintegrate into smoke. Corvo gives her a reassuring look.

“I’m fine,” Emily whispers. She’s not scared of rats but there’s something in these creatures that makes her uneasy in a way she can’t understand. They came from the Void and she hopes they’ll return there once their master is killed so she doesn’t have to look at them any more than necessary. It’s not that she’s scared of rats or mice; there’s something unnatural in them, in the way they move like a swarm rather than individual creatures.

There’s not much in the room, only old barrels. Corvo inspects a wall, touching the bricks with his fingertips until he finds what he’s looking for. She can feel it, too. There must be another room behind the wall, the call of the Void is stronger here. He pushes one of them and a secret passage appears.

He goes first but stops when something snaps under his boots. The room is lit with candles placed all over the ground that’s littered with bones, animal and human alike. Purple curtains with symbols painted on them hang on the walls. At the other side of the room there’s an altar.

Emily gasps, her eyes drawn to what lays on the altar. It’s a rune surrounded by sparks. Emily freezes, mesmerized. The barrier between the Void and their world is so thin here the call from the other side is a constant, low, sad tune tempting her to cross over and give in to the calling.

“Emily.” Corvo’s voice brings her back to reality. She blinks, tightens her grip on her sword, its weight familiar.

Now that she’s not in a trance anymore she sees there’s someone there, a woman standing by the altar. It’s an old lady, her face wrinkled, eyes white. Her gaze goes right through them. She’s dressed in a dress and a short coat – the clothes were beautiful once but now hang on her thin body like rags, torn and dirty. A red brooch is pinned to the front of her coat. A foul smell of dark, twisted magic radiates from her in waves.

“Are you here to help Granny prepare her last meal?” the woman asks in a raspy voice. Her blind eyes stare at a spot between Corvo and Emily.

Squeaks and scratches come from around them even though there’s no place to hide. It seems the rats are everywhere and nowhere at the same time, one with the shadows. Emily’s grip on the sword tightens.

“Did you do this?” Corvo nods at the crude altar. “How many people did you sacrifice for Him?”

The woman’s lips form a smile. “Difficult to say, witcher. I lost count long time ago, years before you were even born.”

The noise rats make get louder. Emily glances at the floor, eyes searching for any sign of them but they’re nowhere to be seen. Something brushes her calf and she lets out a curse, takes a step back and inspects the floor again. Nothing, just old bones. The hum of the Void is distracting, the rune on the altar calls out to her.

Emily forces herself to stay calm. It’s not the worst thing they faced, only some demon rats summoned from the Void. It’s the old woman’s magic that unnerves her. It seems familiar yet so strange.

She blinks, eyes shining gold, and the world turns purple and grey as she draws the power from the Void to see more of this world. She hears whispers in a language she can’t understand. The rune burns with a black smoke, black sparks fly around it. Then she sees rats as they truly are – a mass of shapes pushing through the barrier separating this world and the Void, waiting to be summoned. Corvo looks like he’s on fire, golden flames dancing around his body. And then there’s the woman. She also looks like she’s on fire but the flames that surround her are sickly green. The brooch on her chest burns, too, like it was part of her. On her hand shines the Mark of the Outsider.

When Emily blinks again the world returns to normal.

“She’s Marked!” she calls out to her father.

Corvo’s frown deepens. He reacts in an instant, moves forward ready to strike in a well–practiced motion. He’s too late; his sword pierces through a mass of rats. Just like before they turn into smoke and black sparks.

“Watch out!” Corvo warns.

A swarm of rats jumps out from the shadows, in an instant covering Emily’s right arm. She cries out in pain feeling sharp teeth bite through her clothes. She shakes them off and tries to move away from then when long, bony fingers wrap around her neck. The foul smell of twisted magic is so strong she nearly gags.

Emily uses all of her strength to slam the old woman to the wall. The woman shrieks, the grip of her fingers loosens and Emily moves away from her, closer to the altar.

“The brooch!” Emily says.

Corvo is already by the woman and grabs the lapels of her coat with one hand, with the other tries to rip the brooch from her chest. She claws at him, hissing and spitting. A mass of rats raises from the ground and climbs up his legs, squeaking. They resemble a shadow or dark goo, their movements fluid. Corvo curses and wobbles, the rats trying to bite through his armour. In the cacophony of sounds Emily can barely hear her own thoughts. The Void’s song is loud in her head.

With a heavy grunt Corvo rips the brooch from the woman’s coat and throws it over his shoulder. The woman wraps her bony fingers around his neck, her wrinkled face an ugly mask of rage. The witcher curses again before plunging the sword in her stomach. It does nothing. She doesn’t even twitch as if she didn’t feel the blade at all.

The brooch lies between old bones red, shining red. It smells just like the woman, rotting bodies and filth. Emily hits it with the pommel of her sword. The woman shrieks. Emily hits the brooch again. A crack appears on it, the brooch breaks releasing a cloud of black smoke. The rats climbing up Corvo’s body disappear in black smoke.

The witcher pulls out his sword from the woman body and this time she cries out in pain. Dark red blood drips from the blade. She rushes to the brooch and falls on her knees. With trembling hands she searches for the broken brooch among the bones that litter the ground.

“It was true, what He said,” she says in a quiet, defeated voice. “Of course it was.”

Emily hesitates despite knowing she shouldn’t. The creature in front of her may look like a frail old woman but she’s responsible for killing an entire town of people.

“Listen, child,” the woman whispers. She looks up at Emily, her voice oddly calm. A tickle of blood runs from the corner of her mouth. “Listen what Granny needs to tell you. You must know what your father hides from you. About the Empress.”

Emily stares at her with confusion.

“Ask your father, child!” The woman screeches, spewing blood. “Ask him about the late Empress and watch how he lies to you, Emily Kaldwin!”

“What do you mean?” Emily shakes her head. “How do you know my name?”

“Empress Kaldwin had a daughter with a witcher, and hid her precious birdie away. But Granny saw it all, because Granny sees all, child! Granny saw your mother killed, the Void shows me all. Granny saw– ”

Her voice turns into a gurgling sound and Emily gasps seeing a blade piercing through her throat. Corvo jerks the sword, slices through the woman’s neck. Her head rolls on the floor, lips opening in a silent scream.

“We’re leaving.” The witcher sheathes his sword, no sign of emotions on his face.

“Hold on! How could she know my name? Why did she call me _Kaldwin_?” she asks him. Her voice shakes a little. “Was it true, what she said?”

“We’re leaving, Emily” he repeats. He gives her a cold look, his jaw clenched. “Don’t forget the rune.”

He picks up the woman’s head by the hair and puts it inside a bag. Not waiting for her reaction Corvo leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: this chapter was difficult to write because I lost my muse. I hope for her quick return. I’ll try to get the next chapter ready as soon as I can, hopefully next week.  
> Feedback is always appreciated <3


	6. Emily II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily learns the truth about her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I need to mention that there’s an implied rape threat in this chapter. Not explicit. It’s by the end of the chapter.

Emily stares in disbelief at the now empty space where Corvo stood.

Shaking with anger, she takes the rune and follows her father outside. She barely registers the strange darkness that filled the house has disappeared and there’s no sign of rats anywhere.

“Corvo!” she cries out after him.

He stops and glances at her over the shoulder. “We need to get back before the storm.”

She grits her teeth. She gathers her powers and her body shifts as she reaches out and pulls herself to Corvo. Contrary to him she can’t _Blink_ , but she can pull herself rapidly across a distance. _Far Reach_ , as she calls it, helps her get to places where Corvo _Blinks_. Now she appears before him, stopping him in his tracks.

“We are not leaving until we talk about what that woman said,” she insists, looking him straight in the eyes.

There’s a flash of hesitation in his gaze, then he’s back to cold indifference – a mask he puts on every time he feels threatened. She hates it. The cold, emotionless man is the witcher people fear; he is not her father. Deep down Corvo is caring and kind. Lately he’s slipping away more and more from her, hiding his emotions behind a mask of silence.

“That woman was insane,” he says slowly in a tone that suggests he’s speaking to a small child.

“I don’t know what she was,” Emily says, seething with anger. “Look me in the eyes and tell me what she said isn’t true. Don’t lie to me, dad.”

Corvo puts a bloody bag with the old woman’s head on the ground. When he looks at Emily his eyes are filled with sadness of a person who’s seen too much.

“I don’t want to lie to you, Emily,” he says with resignation. “And I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Is it true, then? That Jessamine Kaldwin was my mother?”

She doesn’t want to sound like she’s begging him to tell her yet a distant, half–forgotten longing makes her voice break. So many times she wondered about her mother when she was younger. A naïve girl who dreamed she was a princess, not some maid’s daughter, and that one day she would move to a beautiful castle and eat chocolate cake for breakfast.

The only thing Corvo ever told her was that her mother was a good woman and that she died, that’s why Emily was in an orphanage. He’s not talkative and she was only a child, so she didn’t question him further. Time went on and she accepted some faceless woman as her mother. It was just the two of them, she and her father, against the world. She didn’t need anyone else.

But to hide so much from her…

“Is that why we had to leave Dunwall all those years ago?” Tears swell in her eyes. “Is that why we were attacked and I almost died?”

Emily balls her trembling hands into fists in helpless rage. Corvo’s face softens. He puts his hands on her shoulders and leans in. Emily considers pushing him away but there’s so much hurt in his eyes her heart aches when she looks at him. Seeing immense sadness, guilt and sorrow accumulated over the years now reflected in Corvo’s eyes, her fury diminishes.

“I don’t know if they attacked us because someone found out you’re Jessamine’s heir,” Corvo speaks in a soft but tense tone. “What I know is that they dared to attack my daughter and I killed them to protect you, Emily. I won’t let anyone harm you, ever.”

Her lips tremble, she stifles a cry. “Then why didn’t you tell me, dad? It’s been ten years. We left Dunwall behind, no one’s coming after us.”

Corvo looks away. He takes a step back, their connection lost. His shoulders are slightly hunched; Emily can only imagine the weight of the guilt he carries.

“I thought Jessamine was safe, that no one could harm her. I couldn’t protect her but I can protect you, Emily.” His tired eyes are on her again. “I can’t make the same mistake. I can’t lose you.”

“The Empress was murdered and you just left!” She exclaims, eyes flashing yellow. The Outsider’s Mark on her hand glows through the glove for a split second. This makes Corvo visibly worried. Emily takes a calming breath. “An usurper sits on the throne, and even though I was only a child I still remember how everyone would always say Dunwall was getting worse under the Lord Regent. And now I see the injustice and suffering every day. It was Burrows who had Jessamine Kaldwin killed, right?”

“I suspected as much,” Corvo admits with resignation. “You must understand some people are simply above the law. Officially your mother hired me to help the city once, and that was it. No one could know about us, it would ruin your mother’s reputation. I didn’t even know she was pregnant. One day she told me we are over and she never wants to see me again.” He closes his eyes and exhales. “Your mother broke my heart that day.”

“And then she sent me to the orphanage,” Emily adds. Years of wanting to be more than a motherless child are like a spike that pierces through her heart.

She wants to be angry at Corvo but can’t, not when he falls apart on her very eyes, sick with guilt.

She wants to be angry at her mother but Jessamine Kaldwin is only a name without meaning. She can’t say if she ever saw a painting of the late Empress. It stings, not knowing her mother’s face.

“Do you know how she died?” she asks, her voice weary. “Did Burrows poison her?”

Corvo shakes his head. “From what I gathered he hired someone and blamed his political opponents. In a short time he seized power, was named Lord Regent and a year later crowned Emperor.”

“Why didn’t he send more men to track me down after the orphanage burned down?”

“Other children died that night. Perhaps it was… convenient for him to pretend you were one of them.”

Sometimes she still dreams of that fateful night, of a strange, scary man with blood dripping from his sword approaching her, kneeling down and saying her name. There was softness in his yellow eyes. At times Emily hopes some part of that softness is still left in her father’s heart.

“It’s all _politics_ , Emily,” Corvo adds with an irritated huff. “I don’t know how he found out about you but he only targeted you because you were potentially the next one in line to the throne.”

“Well, those _politics_ got Jessamine Kaldwin killed and almost killed me,” she retorts. Her anger is back, burning hot in her veins. “Did you even love her?” she spits out before she can think.

Corvo doesn’t snap back at her. He silently accepts her anger.

“I did. She was the best thing that happened to me,” he says in a calm voice of a person who wishes he could turn back time and protect his beloved. “And then I found you.”

“Even if you don’t care who rules the Empire, how can you allow the murderer of the woman you loved walk free? She deserves justice.”

Corvo emits a short laugh. “There’s no such thing as justice, my dear. If the world was just then your mother wouldn’t have to give you up.”

The words sting, so much she feels her strong will break. Tears stream down her face. She angrily wipes them with the back of her hand. The sky is dark with clouds, a lightning strikes in the distance.

“We need to go back to Dunwall.”

Corvo stares at her, worry and confusion painted on his face. “Emily…”

She doesn’t let him finish. She’s made up her mind.

“I’m going, with or without you, dad.”

The last word sounds like a curse. It’s unfair to Corvo after all he’s been through and after everything he’s done for her, yet Emily can’t stop herself from being cruel in this short moment. The hurt in his eyes brings her pain and, no matter how hard she tries to deny it, also some sort of satisfaction. He can’t hide behind lies anymore.

_The lies that kept you safe all those years_ , whispers a small voice in her mind.

_I can keep myself safe_ , she tells herself. _I’m not that scared girl anymore._

“Emily,” Corvo begins again.

“We need to get paid first.” She nods at the bloody bag. “We’ll get enough coin to get back to Dunwall.”

“I can’t let you go back there.” Corvo’s gaze is at her. His eyes grow soft.

“Corvo– ”

“I can’t let you go back there alone.”

She sees it then, the same kind of softness in his eyes she saw all those years back when he came to rescue her on that fateful night. 

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Her anger is gone for good, leaving her shaken. Emily swallows against the tightness in her throat. It’s comforting to know she doesn’t have to face the world alone.

As they walk back to their horses Emily looks at the statue of Euhorn Kaldwin. Maybe there’s some part of him in her. She’s his granddaughter, after all.

They ride back in silence. It’s already raining when they reach the town.

A young boy sits by the tavern’s door. Seeing them approach he gasps, jumps on his feet and runs inside like he’s seen a ghost.

“Emily…” Corvo whispers, his voice tense.

She nods. She can feel it, too. They’re being watched.

The doors to The Thirsty Lute open, the barkeep Talsin steps outside accompanied by a group of men. Emily narrows her eyes at them. Some of them are holding sticks, others spears, one even has a rake. Corvo moves closer to her. Another group of men comes out of a house behind them, surrounding them from both sides.

Corvo tosses the bloody bag near Talsin’s feet. It falls in the mud.

“This is what lived in Maidstone. The job is done. You owe us one hundred gold.”

Talsin snickers. There’s an ugly smile on his face, his eyes shine with confidence. The men glare at them in silence.

“There’s been a change of plans,” he says and gestures at the notice board. “I’m a good citizen. I obey the laws of our good Emperor, long may he reign.”

All old parchments are gone replaced with one official document with a seal of the Emperor at the bottom. Emily scans the text and a shiver runs down her spine.

Emperor Burrows declared a holy war on _all things unnatural_. The document includes a long list of creatures that are to be captured dead or alive, and how much coin will be paid for _eradicating evil from this world_.

“I can’t pay you, witchers,” Talsin speaks with a smirk. “After you left in the morning, a messenger came to town. Told us all about the Emperor’s plan to get rid of your kind. And who am I to defy my Emperor?”

Emily glances at Corvo. He doesn’t react. His shoulders are tense, eyes focused on the barkeep.

“You see what it says,” Talsin nods at the board. “For every unnatural creature, captured alive or dead, a hefty sum will be paid. For a corpse eater – fifty pieces of gold,” he recites, eyes focused on Emily, unmoving. “For a flying creature – seventy. For a griffin or a wyvern – one hundred gold. And for a witcher?”

“One thousand gold pieces,” says a lady with a blonde braid, Lucia. She’s not holding a broom this time but a kitchen knife. Greed twists her face into an ugly mask. In the rain hair sticks to her wet face.

“You ever saw one thousand gold, witcher?” Talsin asks, eyes moving to Corvo. “Anyone paid you that much?”

Corvo stays silent, his jaw clenched. Their horses neigh behind them, hooves dig into mud. They sense the tension in the air.

“Even if he had that much,” says one of the men standing on the barkeep’s left; he holds the rake, “he no doubt spent it all on wine and whores. Witchers are like that, they put curses on women.”

He spits on the ground. Emily feels something stir inside her. It’s a spark, it coils in her gut and is close to exploding.

“You let them into your tavern, Talsin,” calls out another man. “Tomorrow you’ll find all milk spoiled and food rotten. They brought part of the Void with them, same sickness that was in Maidstone.”

She thought she’s done with anger for today. The anger she felt before was nothing compared to what she feels now. The spark ignites and burns bright, her heart on fire.

“One thousand gold is a large sum,” the barkeep continues. “People here are poor, we will use that money well.”

Others nod. Something raw and animalistic shines in their eyes. It makes Emily sick.

“We did what you asked,” she says. Maybe she can reason with him, others will listen to what he commands. “Let us leave.”

He scoffs. Another man curses.

“Little witcheress is scared!” The blonde woman laughs. “You’re a pretty girl, too bad you play with magic. Could use some help around the kitchen.”

Some of the men laugh. One says, “It would be too bad to kill a pretty girl like her, eh? The Abbey will pay us for the body, so what if she gets bruised a little?”

More of them laugh. Bile rises in Emily’s throat, her heart thunders with rage.

Rain drips down her face. The rune in her bag sings its sad song, calming her down.

“Kill the old man first,” Talsin barks. “Don’t let them look you in the eyes!”

A spear flies in the air and lands close to Corvo’s feet. But he’s not there anymore; he disappears with a barely audible hiss. The villagers gasp and curse, some rushing at Emily, their weapons ready. The blonde woman yells and attacks, raising the knife in her hand.

Emily inhales. Drops of rain fall on her face, a lightning cuts the sky in half. The Void sings to her.

The sword is in her hand and she ducks, a spear flies over her head and hits the ground. Talsin takes a step back while others run at her. She sees every single one of them. They’re like flies caught in a jar.

Steel cuts through bone, the hand holding the knife falls in the mud. Blood pours from the limb, the woman shrieks and falls, face first on the ground. The men reach out to Emily to grab her but she’s not there. She _pulls_ herself up on a windowsill on the first floor of the tavern and sits there, perched like a crow, her eyes shining wild.

She did ask them to let her and Corvo leave. They should have listened.

She waves her hand, picking up targets one by one. The first one, second, third and fourth. A glowing string visible only to her connects them, she closes her fists and _pulls_ and they collapse like puppets with cut strings. One of their spears stabs another person in the back. The woman screams on the ground, trampled by others.

Talsin curses, turns around to run into the tavern but gets hit in the face with a fist. Corvo grabs him by his shirt, the man pleads but it’s too late. The witcher’s blade goes through his chest, he coughs and falls lifeless.

Emily jumps down, cuts through two men within her reach, then points her hand at another one. The Void’s song gets louder when she _Possesses_ him. His eyes roll back in his head, he wobbles, raises the stick in his hand and hits the closest person to him with it, again and again, until the head cracks open.

She loses her grasp of the Possessed man who then falls on his knees. Emily is by him in an instant, cuts through him to finish the job. Corvo waves his hand summoning a gust a wind that knocks down a man. The guy begs for his life. A futile attempt. He falls silent, stabbed between the eyes.

It’s then that Emily realises others ran away screaming. She and Corvo stand among corpses drenched in rain and mud. She sheathes her sword.

_They should have let us leave._

Corvo pats her on her back. “Let’s go. There might be more coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading.  
> We're going back to Billie and Da(u)d in the next chapter.


	7. Billie I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billie, Daud and Thomas try to have a normal life but a new law declared by the Emperor puts them at great risk.

The marketplace is busy, filled with people walking between stalls with produce, clothes and cages with live animals. The cacophony of sounds is unnerving; people talking and arguing over the prices, goats bleating, a pair of guards yelling at a small boy who walked into them and his mother asking for forgiveness.

Billie touches a dagger hidden under her cloak. It’s comforting to know it’s there, just in case. All this noise makes her uneasy in a way she can’t quite understand. She was raised in a city, she’s used to all that hassle. The difference now is that she’s one of the _unnatural creatures_. No matter what Daud says, that makes her a target.

“I guess we got everything we need,” Thomas turns to Billie. He holds two bags in his hands. “Time to head back home.”

She nods with a sigh of relief. An old man selling fish gives her an angry look. It’s most likely because she’s standing by his stall without buying anything. He can’t possibly know she and Thomas aren’t exactly ordinary people like everyone else who came here to do shopping.

Billie follows Thomas through the crowd. Over the years he changed a lot. That skinny boy with bruised face is gone, replaced by a tall man. He cuts his blond hair short. His face is covered with freckles that seem to multiply every time he spends time working outside in the sun.

They leave the market, walking along a street leading to a tavern where they left their horses. It’s a warm, sunny day. Billie idly wonders if it’s going to rain tonight. Then she frowns realising she once again thinks about such mundane things. She’s turning into some boring woman whose entire life revolves around preparing food, sweeping, and pointless talk about the weather.

“How many sheep do you think we should get?” Thomas asks, genuine interest shining in his blue eyes. “The price was way too high.”

Billie blinks. “What?” she asks with confusion because she wasn’t listening.

“We were supposed to ask about sheep, remember?” he gives her a confused look. “I don’t think that was a good price. That much coin for three sheep? That guy wanted to scam us.”

“Hm,” she nods, not interested in the conversation in the slightest.

“He thinks we’re stupid or something,” Thomas continues. Today his usual chattiness makes her irritated, for reasons she can’t define. “That he can sell some sickly sheep to two dumb kids. You saw the look on his stupid face. He wouldn’t try that with Daud, you know. The guy would be scared shitless of him, maybe even give him the sheep for free.”

“Well, he needs to come here himself, then,” she says with a sigh.

Daud always sends them to town for shopping instead of going himself. She can’t remember when was the last time he left their farm. It was a big change, to settle down in one place instead of travelling through Serkonos. They replaced hunting monsters with growing crops. She hasn’t felt the weight of a sword in her hand in a while.

“What’s that all about?”

Thomas’ voice brings her back to reality. She glances at what Thomas is pointing, a small crowd gathering in front of the tavern. A man in fancy clothes stands on a crate. His perfectly clean clothes: a white vest with golden buttons, white pants and high boots, stick out like a sore thumb in this place. A nobleman; no commoner would wear white clothes, they’d get dirty in seconds. He holds a parchment in his hands, reading from it.

“Signed, your Emperor, Hiram Burrows, first of his name. Long may he reign.”

A soft murmur of voices follows his announcement. He looks around the crowd, some people leave, others, like Billie and Thomas, only now join the gathering. He clears his throat.

At the sight of two people accompanying him Billie feels a shiver run down her spine. Men in blue uniforms and golden masks, with long swords by their belts. They stand behind the noble like dogs guarding their master. Or a piece of meat.

“Overseers,” Thomas whispers. “What’s this all about? Did they find someone accused of heresy?”

Worry claws at her throat. She touches the dagger hidden under her cloak again. If only she had her swords with her.

Daud taught her many things. One of his lessons was about the Abbey, and she saw first–hand how ruthless Overseers are. Women accused of witchcraft were burned at stake. It was a big event in Karnaca. People gathered to throw food at the accused, the Duke made a speech while Overseers tied a woman to a pole. Billie still remembers the stench of burned flesh.

“Let’s listen to what he has to say and get back home,” she whispers back. “We need to tell Daud about this.”

“Attention citizens of the Empire!” the noble’s voice booms as he reads from the parchment. The crowd goes silent. “His Imperial Majesty, Emperor of the Isles, Hiram Burrows, aided by the Abbey of the Everyman declares a holy war on all things unnatural. The Outsider poisoned our Empire with creatures from the Void. It is time to reclaim our lands from his clutches and purge our Empire once and for all.”

Billie feels cold in her chest. _She told me this would happen and she was right._

“Your Emperor beseeches you, good citizens of the Isles, to join this holy war. All brave souls who help with eradicating evil from this world will be paid handsomely. Your Emperor declares that for every unnatural creature captured alive or brought dead to your nearest Abbey, a price will be paid as follows.”

He swallows, takes a breath and continues. Billie listens, frozen in place.

“For a corpse eater – fifty pieces of gold.”

“What..?” Thomas mumbles. “Billie, what is this?”

She shakes her head. Her heart is beating so hast like it wants to jump out of her chest. This feels like a bad dream but some part of her knew it would happen.

_Because s h e told me it’s going to happen._

“For a flying creature – seventy,” the man continues, his voice louder than the whispering in the crowd. “For a griffin or a wyvern – one hundred gold.”

“This can’t be,” Thomas puts a hand on her shoulder. “Billie, how can this– ”

“For a witcher,” the noble recites. The whole world disappears, leaving only her and the man reading the Emperor’s new decree.

“One thousand gold pieces.”

The crowd gets louder, people gasp with excitement. Thomas grips her shoulder with so much force she winces but can’t react in any other way. The man is still talking, she can’t hear him, all voices becoming noise.

She idly touches her left hand. The Outsider’s Mark is hidden under a glove. If the Overseers saw it now, would they drag her with them, tie to a pole and burn like that woman in Karnaca?

“We need to go,” she says to Thomas. She takes his hand and pulls him to a stable behind the tavern where their horses are waiting for them.

“That can’t be true!” He argues in a low voice. “One thousand gold? The Emperor’s mad!”

“Shut up!” she hisses. She glances around, thankfully there’s no one in the stable. “We need to get back home and tell Daud about this.”

Thomas curses under his breath. He puts the bags on his horse and they leave without looking back. They ride in silence through a road between fields.

_She knew, she knew but I didn’t want to believe her_ , a voice chants in Billie’s head. Fear wraps its fingers around her throat.

They ride for a half an hour under a bright blue sky until they reach an old house surrounded by a wooden fence. The entrance door is red, Billie painted it herself. On the front porch there’s a chair covered with a thick blanket, and a small table. A pipe lays on the table, waiting till the evening.

The witcher is nowhere to be seen. Billie and Thomas leave their horses by the entrance. He calls out for Daud, there’s no response. Hearing the sound of an axe chopping wood, they go around the house to find Daud there. He’s wearing only breeches and worn–out shoes, holds an axe in his arms. His skin is littered with scars; Billie knows the stories behind some of them. His left hand is wrapped in bandages, a simple trick to hide the Mark.

There’s a barn in the backyard, now open to let four goats walk freely around the farm. One of them lifts up its head and greets them with a bleating. Apple trees grow by the fence, heavy with apples.

“Daud!” Thomas exclaims.

Seeing worry on the boy’s face Daud puts down the axe. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his hand, his eyes moving from Thomas to Billie. A frown appears between his brows.

“What happened?”

“The Emperor declared a holy war,” Billie speaks before Thomas can gather his thoughts. “He’ll pay coin for any unnatural creature people kill or bring to the Abbey. Witchers are on the list.”

“At the top of that damn list,” Thomas adds. “What are we gonna do?”

Daud lets out a deep sigh. He picks up the axe again, places another piece of wood on a stump to chop. “We’re not doing anything.”

“What?!” Thomas scoffs. “So we’re just going to wait here for the Overseers to come and get us?”

Daud raises the axe, his back glistens with sweat. In one swift motion he chops the wood in half, then picks up the pieces and throws on a pile.

“Whatever happens, happens,” is all Daud has to say.

Billie stares in disbelief as he continues his work. Thomas tries to argue, mentions they’ve done jobs for people from the town before. Daud ignores him.

Anger stirs low in Billie’s gut. She expected more of the witcher, any sort of reaction would be better.

_I knew it would happen_ , she almost tells him. She bites her tongue. She promised not to tell anyone, not even the man who raised and cared for her all these years. It doesn’t seem right to keep secrets from Daud, then again Billie’s sure he keeps many secrets from her and Thomas. For starters, he never quite explained why they had to leave Dunwall all these years ago. There was a talk about a dead Empress. Billie knows he used to be a hired killer; there’s not much work in a city for a witcher, sooner or later every skilled swordsman has to make a choice: use their skills for killing people or starve. Daud made that choice long before he met Billie.

She wishes to tell him, some part of her does at least. More and more of her is irritated with how things have been lately. He trained them for so long so they could settle down on a farm? He can pretend he doesn’t hear the call of the Void all he wants but the tune is loud and clear to Billie. She doesn’t want to see him turn into some sad, old, _useless_ man. More importantly, she doesn’t want to waste her life here.

It all stirs inside her, emotions almost pushing the words through her mouth. In the end she stays silent, letting Thomas express all the frustration for her.

“We all know what the Abbey does to anyone who worships the Outisder. What are they going to do to us when they see we have his Mark?!”

“You know what they’ll do,” Billie says in a low voice. “They’ll make a show and– ”

Hearing horses approaching she stops, turns around, hand reaching for her dagger. Daud puts down the axe, eyes narrowed at three riders galloping towards them. Thomas grabs his knife, ready for a fight. He’s always been a tad impulsive. Daud walks past them, gives Thomas a look, then stands in front of them as the riders come close.

Two younger men and an older woman. Simple clothes but with swords by their belts. She gets down and walks over to them, and Billie recognises her – she has a farm similar to theirs but closer to town. The two men must be her sons, if Billie remembers correctly. The first job they did for her was about nekkers. She paid good coin and gave them a basket full of food, including a jar of marmalade Thomas loved so much.

She raises her hands. “We mean you no harm. I came here to warn you, witcher.”

Worry shines in her dark eyes. She has a wrinkled face that was beautiful once, many years ago.

“What do you want to warn me about?” Daud asks. His voice is indifferent yet now there’s a hint of tension in his tone. “Is it about the Emperor’s holy war?”

“So you have heard…” she shakes her head in resignation.

“Yeah, we did!” Thomas barks. “You came here to claim the reward for our heads?”

“ _Thomas_.” Daud shoots him a look over his shoulder. The boy looks away, blushing.

“Please, understand us, witcher.” the woman continues, her eyes pleading. “Most people I know don’t care about the Emperor’s decrees. But it’s not safe for us if you stay near our town. We wish you no trouble.”

“We don’t cause any trouble!” Thomas spits. He balls his hands into fists.

Daud gestures at him to be silent. He speaks in a calm tone. “Thank you for coming to talk to us, Mrs Sela. Like Thomas says, we mean no trouble. You already know that.”

_How can you be so calm!_ Billie stares at him, her disbelief growing. She shakes in anger. These people dare to come here and tell them to leave. And Daud doesn’t react, stays calm, doesn’t make a single gesture to imply he’s going to defend his home.

_You’ve grown soft, old man_.

“I do, believe me, I do,” the woman admits. “When my husband went missing, you and your kids found him and brought him back alive. Nobody wanted to help, nobody would kill that creature, but you did. I’ll never forget it.” Her eyes shift to Thomas, then she glances briefly at Billie. Genuine sadness shines in her eyes. “The Emperor is offering so much coin that sooner or later people will come for you. Human greed is a terrible thing. It’s best for you if you leave. I don’t want to see you and your kids burnt at the stake.”

Billie’s cheek twitches. Anger burns in her gut like a hot coal.

“Others won’t come here with a warning,” Mrs Sela adds. “I wish you a good day.”

She nods at Daud and gestures at the others. They turn their horses around without a word. Billie watches them as they ride away.

“Can you believe that!” Thomas exclaims and scoffs. “We’re not leaving, are we, Daud?”

He gives the witcher a look, waiting for confirmation.

Daud shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

He sounds… Billie feels her body shaking. He feels defeated, beaten and _weak_. She doesn’t know what happened to the man she knew. The person she sees now is a stranger. She would pity him if she wasn’t so angry.

“What?! What do you mean _you don’t know_?” Thomas waves in the direction of the farm’s entrance. “You’re gonna listen to Mrs Sela? You want us to leave? We lived here in peace for two years! You wanted us to buy sheep!” he adds as if that was of any importance.

“Like I said, I don’t know,” Daud repeats, this time with a hint of irritation in his voice. “If the Emperor wants to hunt us down then people will come for us sooner or later. How much does he offer for a witcher?”

“A lot,” Thomas mumbles under his breath.

“One thousand gold,” Billie says. She looks Daud right in the eyes.

Daud curses. A frown appears between his brows and he’s back to his usual scorn. “Then we have to leave.”

“You can’t be serious!” Thomas’ eyes go wide. “We fought ghouls, wraiths and a freaking wyvern. Whoever comes here we can take them.”

Anger stirs inside Billie, pushing words out of her mouth before she can think. “It’s not that we can’t defeat whoever comes to get us, it’s that he doesn’t want to kill anymore.”

Something changes in Daud’s expression. She sees how much her word sting, sees it in the slight hunch of his shoulders and a hint of shame in his eyes. And yet, she continues.

“Once feared and undefeated witcher Daud put down his swords and now wants to herd sheep. What kind of a sick joke is this?”

Daud stays silent. Thomas opens his mouth to argue. She doesn’t let him.

“You’re a killer, Daud. You made us killers, remember? You gave us this,” she lifts up her left fist. “And now you decided you don’t want to do this anymore? That you’ve had enough? That you’ll listen to some peasants when they tell you to leave your home?” She scoffs. The dam broke, years of accumulated feelings and unspoken words spill into the world.

“What about me and Thomas? You ever think about us anymore? Or do you prefer to only brood alone in the darkness until you fall asleep in your chair on the porch?”

“Billie!” Thomas exclaims. _It’s not fair_ , his eyes tell her. _Don’t be like that, don’t say that._

She doesn’t care if her words hurt. And they do, that much is certain. There’s hurt in Daud’s eyes, well–hidden like any other emotion; he’s had years of training to pretend to be an emotionless monster. The guilt and shame is there, however, in his steel eyes when he looks at her, finally looks her in the eyes. Her words got to him, stabbed him right in the heart.

She regrets them in an instant. She can’t be cruel to him, she can’t–

Billie takes a shaky breath.

Delilah told her what’s going to happen. She was right about the Emperor wanting to hunt them down. She’s right about everything else, too. She has to be.

Looking at the bitter, sad man the witcher has become Billie knows Delilah’s words are true. It hurts so much to look at Daud, at the guilt in his eyes. Billie has to be stronger.

_I won’t die with you._ She thinks. Something tells her he can see the thought in her eyes.

“Don’t wait for me for dinner,” she says, turns around and gets to her horse.

She leaves the farm without looking back. She can’t bear to see more guilt in Daud’s eyes.

* * *

Wind hits Billie’s face as she rides away from the place she’s called her home for the last two years. She forces her horse to move faster. The more distance between the farm and her the better.

_I don’t want to be cruel._

The words she said echo in her mind. The way Daud looked at her doesn’t want to leave her. So much guilt and hurt in his eyes, more than she’s ever seen.

The witcher is a stoic and serious man; the only time she saw fear in his eyes was when the three of them fought a wyvern four years back. The beast struck her with a stinger at the end of its tail. Billie collapsed, her body went numb in an instant. Daud and Thomas were by her side. Thomas grabbed her by the shoulders, panicking. _Witchers are supposed to be emotionless_ , she wanted to tell him but couldn’t even open her lips, the wyvern’s toxin paralysed her. Only when she looked at Daud and saw genuine fear in his eyes Billie understood the situation is serious.

She stayed at a tavern, gathering her strength and drinking one elixir after another while Daud and Thomas tracked down the monster and finished the assignment. They never really talked about it afterwards.

Then again, Daud isn’t a talkative man.

It’s one of his many flaws.

_I don’t want to be cruel,_ she repeats to herself. _But I have to._

Deep in a forest, away from the farm and any settlements, there’s a place of power where the barrier separating this world from the Void is so thin no animal dares to come near it. Many years ago people built an altar there, a crude, stone table with markings carved on it. Billie’s horse neighs, distressed, refuses to move closer to the area around the altar where no grass grows and the soil looks like ash. The Void seeps into this world, consuming everything it can in this small space. Nothing will ever grow here.

Billie gets down, pats the horse and leaves it tied to a tree. The animal snorts, moves as far as it can, hooves digging in the grass. Billie reaches to a satchel on her belt, takes out a small crystal. It’s milky white, the size of an average orange, round, with marks carved in it. She carved them herself, instructed by the sorceress. The crystal is cold in her hand. Its coldness gives her an odd sense of comfort. It’s still not the familiar weight of her sword but at least it’s _something_. The forest around her is quiet as if everything was holding its breath. The only sound Billie hears is the low hum of the Void.

She places the crystal on the altar. It stills as it snapping back in place. Black sparks appear around it, the tune of the Void gets louder. The air is crackling with energy. Billie inhales; it feels like she’s in the middle of a storm and a lightning is about to hit her. She opens her lips and says an incantation, watching the sparks form a circle in the air behind the altar.

Words of power. Forbidden, or so she was told. She learnt many things from Daud but he never taught her about this.

Billie repeats the phrase, her words mixing with the Void’s song. There’s an unnatural scent in the air. It’s like a vast ocean of nothingness with whales drifting between pieces of broken realities.

And somewhere in there it’s Him, observing her but never interfering. Some say the Outsider sees all. If He does, then He can’t care about her one bit – she’s never seen Him. Daud claims he did, on the day he was Marked. Billie’s not so sure she believes him.

Maybe the Outisider doesn’t care about her because she didn’t receive the Mark from Him but from Daud instead? If so, then why did He allow the witcher to have a power to share his gifts?

_Concentrate, dear_ , comes a woman’s whisper. Billie gasps as it drills right into her mind. _There are so many thoughts in your head. You need a clear mind for the ritual to work properly._

Billie exhales. She flushes red, forces herself to empty her mind and focus on the task. She says the incantation for the third and last time. The circle of sparks resembles a mirror hanging in the air. For a moment she sees her own reflection, then the image ripples and a portal is complete. It shows a place afar away from the forest, connecting her to the person who instructed her what markings he has to carve on the crystal and taught her the words to open the portal.

“Hello, my dear. It’s so good to see you.”

Delilah Copperspoon tilts her head just barely so, eyes narrowed, a hint of a smile on her lips. She’s wearing a long black nightgown, the colour contrasting with her pale skin. The gown is unbuttoned at the front, not completely but enough to cause a scandal if she ever wore that in public. A _proper_ woman should never show off that much cleavage. She sits on a black ottoman, graceful like a cat. From what Billie understands, Delilah is skilled enough to open a portal in her own home, perhaps in her own bedroom which would explain her current state of undress. It’s also possible the sorceress knew Billie will contact her earlier than planned. She simply knows such things, and many more.

“The Emperor declared a holy war,” Billie says, all pleasantries forgotten. “Just like you told me. And he’s offering one thousand gold for a witcher.”

“I’m sorry, Billie. I truly am,” Delilah says. The concern in her voice doesn’t quite match the cold look in her eyes.

“Everything happens like you told me, and I…” Billie hesitates. She leans on the altar. If she could simply cross over, step through the portal and into Delilah’s arms – she would. Or so she thinks, ignoring a small voice telling her she’d never dare to run away from her family, no matter how many doubts she has or how angry she gets.

Delilah is far away. She never explained where exactly but Billie suspects the woman is somewhere in Gristol. Billie can’t reach out and touch the sorceress. There are moments when she needs just that – to feel the warmth of a woman she considers her _lover_ , although at times Billie laughs at the idea of being in love with someone she’s never really met face to face. Delilah stays on her side of the portal, so close to Billie yet so out of reach. Sometimes the woman comes to her in her dreams, leaving her gasping for air, flushed hot, and wanting more.

Emperor Burrow’s decision to hunt down every unnatural creature is not the only thing Delilah told her. The thought of it all being true makes a shiver run down Billie’s back.

“I can’t stand what he’s become,” Billie continues. She stares at the crystal. Delilah always seems to see too much. Perhaps the sorceress can read Billie’s thoughts; if so, then she has to laugh at her childish doubts. “After spending so many years on the road, training and learning, now I have to settle down and _not_ be a witcheress anymore? All because he suddenly decided it would be good to be a farmer instead?”

She scoffs. Being angry is easy. She told Daud what she had to say. He had to hear it and maybe finally think about the consequences of his decisions for once. What she can’t ignore is a growing feeling of guilt. She tries to push it away, lock it at the bottom in her heart.

She glances at Delilah. Maybe the woman sees the desperation in Billie’s eyes because Delilah’s face softens.

“I told you, it’s not your destiny to live like that. You are destined to do many great things, Billie. You learnt so many things on your own. Thanks to you we can talk like this,” she waves her delicate hand at the portal.

“It’s thanks to you. You taught me well,” Billie protests yet can’t help but feel pride swell in her heart.

Such an amazing woman, a skilled sorceress, like Delilah compliments and appreciates her, and Billie drinks her every word. No matter how attracted she is to the woman, she longs for their talks also because of the way Delilah treats her. It’s a mystery why the sorceress is so kind to her. Deep down Billie hopes it’s because she truly cares for her, though why she would care for someone who’s not even a _real_ witcheress is unclear. Billie knows how witchers are made – they have to Marked by the Outsider. What she has instead is power shared by Daud. She and Thomas are no match to him; they never visited the Void, never saw the black eyed god. All they have is the old witcher.

_To save you the pain_ , he said once after she wasted days begging him to explain his decision.

Perhaps it was to limit her after all…

Delilah chuckles. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, my sweet. An ordinary person would never interest me. And you, Billie, are extraordinary.”

There’s a certain _purr_ in her voice, and a spark in her eyes, and it all makes Billie’s heart beat faster.

“I wish,” she begins, her loneliness forming the words before she can think if she should say them out loud. “I wish we could meet. I wish we could see each other and I could reach out and hold your hand.”

She shakes her head. Her face is burning. Desperation is clawing at her throat. “I’m sorry, it’s silly, I’m – ”

“Billie.”

She loves the way her name rolls off Delilah’s tongue.

“I’m glad we’re talking,” Delilah speaks, her voice like a cat’s purr. “I’m glad you contacted me earlier than we agreed. I think I found a way we can meet.”

Billie’s eyes widen and she gasps, leaning in even more. Touching the portal isn’t the smartest thing; she would end up in the Void and never get out. To travel through space she needs more than some silly little crystal.

“Tell me how, please.” She wills her voice to not sound pleading. It doesn’t quite work.

“I’m sending a package to Karnaca. You’ll need to pick it up from a good friend of mine, Breanna Ashworth. She will help you make a guidance stone. You know what it is, don’t you?”

“I thought the knowledge of how to make them was lost,” Billie says in confusion. It’s what Daud told her when she once asked why they have to travel everywhere by horse. One book he told her to read mentioned portals – gates through the Void linking places in the real world. They worked like shortcuts, and they would really save them the time wasted on travelling. The witcher told her most knowledge from the old times was lost after the Abbey gained power and all magic was forbidden. According to him, creating portals was impossible.

And yet here she is, using one to talk to a woman on the other side of the world.

Delilah chuckled. “Not all is lost, my dear. Quite contrary, there’s still much to learn when you know where to look. And I’ll be more than happy to teach you.”

“I’ll go to Karnaca,” Billie declares, a plan already forming in her head.

“But first, my dear, you must make a decision.”

Delilah’s eyes change. Billie can’t look away, mesmerized. The sorceress is like a cat toying with her prey. And Billie willingly accepts her role as a toy in the cat’s paws.

“Everything I told you is true, you see it happening already,” Delilah speaks. Her voice is more alluring than the song of the Void. There’s a promise in her eyes. “The Emperor will not rest until he eradicates all unnatural creatures from his Empire. He’s a fool but one with power and influence, and that makes him dangerous. You know what will happen next. I told you even though you refused to believe me.”

Billie’s cheek twitches. Of course she remembers. She remembers every word the sorceress has told her.

“I don’t want to see you waste your life and die.” Delilah speaks. Billie can’t take her eyes off her. “I wish to hold you in my arms, dear. But we can’t build our future together if you don’t deal with your past.”

Reluctantly, Billie nods. No matter how much she refuses to think about it, now that the Emperor offers so much coin people will come for her. And for Thomas and Daud. They can’t run forever.

Guilt drills a hole in her heart, clutches at her throat, makes it difficult to breathe. Delilah told her what’s going to happen.

_I saw you die to protect him. A violent mob came for the three of you. They set your home on fire, got to the boy first. Then they went for you and I saw you pierced by spears. The blows were meant for the witcher. Your sacrifice was for nothing, he died soon after you and people mounted your heads on spikes for the whole city to see while your bodies burned._

She remembers every word Delilah said. She sees it all in her mind as if it already happened in a different reality. Thomas would be the first one to die because he’s rash; he would attack without thinking. And she would die to protect the witcher.

“Tell me, Delilah. Tell me what I should do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m sorry this took so long. Real life sucks.  
> In this story I call Delilah a sorceress which, admittedly, may be confusing. It’s what women who use magic are called in the Witcher universe, and I figured it fits better. Billie respects Delilah so she calls her a sorceress, while a person who dislikes her will call her a witch.  
> Billie’s and Delilah’s relationship, and how the two met, will be explained in later chapters. I wanted to sort of follow the DLC’s reveal at the end when we see that Billie was working for Delilah the whole time.  
> Thank you for your feedback. Comments are always appreciated.


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